



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

ChapES^. Copyright No. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 























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MARGOLEEN, 


—BY— 



Mrs. Poca T. Smith, 


Author of “Lucy Hilward, or, Lashed by 
the Waves of Adversity,” “Modern 
Plan of Education,” “An 
Evening’s Reverie,” Etc. 


Entered according to the Act of Congress in the year 
1896, by Mrs. Poca T. Smith, in the office of the Librarian, 
at Washington, D. C. 



Clarksville, Tenn.: 

W. P. Titus, Printer and Bidder, 
1897, 










To My Sweet, Old Gray-Haired 
Mother, who Holds an affection in my 
heart which nothing can erase, do I inscribe 
this unpretentious story. 


— P. T. S. 


Preface. 


Upon life’s sea I set this sail, 

A trembling bark to test the wave, 

As from my sopl a prayer ascends 
That it be houored to the grave ; 

By all who have the power to feel, 

Yea, know life’s truths herein, defined, 
Who can discern ail influence breathed 
To purify the heart and mind. 


■ — The Author. 




MARGOLEEN. 


CHAPTER I. 


“Come not, when I am dead, 

To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, 

To trample round my lowly head, 

And vex the dust thou mights’t, a time, have saved. 

There let the wind sweep and the plover cry, 

But thou, go by. 

Woman, if it were thine error or thy crime, 

I care no longer, being here unblest, 

Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of time, 

And I desire to rest. 

Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie, 

Go by, go by. n 

Cuthbert was indeed a beautiful Kentucky 
home. The imposing old mansion stood at the 
head of a grand arcade of stately elms, which 
lifted their towering branches loftily toward 
heaven, and lent a grateful shade to the green- 
turft lawn beneath. 

Gently sloping meadows, and orchards whose 
trees were laden with white and pink blossoms, 
lay at the outskirts of the grand avenue, through 
which a graveled drive led to the main entrance. 
On either side the ground was a pool, in which 


6 


MARGOLEEN. 


the water-lilies trembled on the gently agitated 
breast of its clear surface. There were broad 
and productive fields covered with white and red 
clover blossoms, from whose petals the army of 
bees sipped honey, whilst humming their cease- 
less drone. (Together with bank-stock and 
valuable slaves belong this inheritance. ) Marion 
Lewis, a young man of noble character, awoke 
one morning to find himself sole heir to this 
lordly estate. His love for the beautiful (being 
excelled only by his Christian graces) caused 
him to invest his already comfortable home with 
every device suggestive of loveliness. 

On entering the grounds, flowers sent a breath 
of welcome to you, filling the air with their sweet 
fragrance. His home he furnished indicative of 
refinement. Being of an affectionate and com- 
panionable disposition, and without kindred ties, 
he considered God’s word, to-wit: “ ’Tis not 
meet that man should live alone,” and so decided 
to take unto himself a wife. 

Accordingly he wooed and married Miss Ira 
Stanton, the daughter of a farmer, whose income 
was small, yet sufficiently comfortable to allow 
them to live in moderate style. 

Ira being the only child, unfortunately, was 
spoiled to a great extent, and often put her father 
to inconvenience in gratifying her extravagant 


MARGOLEEN. 


7 


whims. Priding herself on her equestriauship, 
she induced him to buy her a spirited black 
steed, and riding-habit of like color. It was her 
delight to ride, as well as to be admired for 
grace, and she often passed Cuthbert en route to 
their neighboring city, from which the people 
of the surrounding community bought their sup- 
plies, and which numbered about six thousand 
inhabitants. 

“It was a nice distance for a horse-back ride,” 
she said, and it was upon one of these occasions 
that Marion Tewis, having been to the city for 
his mail, came unexpectedly upon his future fate. 

Slowly he was returning home, his bridle hung 
over the pomel of his saddle, while in his hands 
he held an open newspaper. So deeply was he 
absorbed in its topics, that he did not see or hear 
Ira riding up behind him until her horse, with 
a loud snort, lunged frantically across the road, 
apparently frightened at the newspaper he held 
in his hands. Instantly he sprang to her side, 
and grasping her horse’s rein patted him to 
docility. Then raising his arms, to what he 
supposed, a very much frightened girl, with 
terror-stricken face, instead he beheld a beautiful 
and undaunted woman, and he said, “Would 
you not like to dismount and exchange horses 
with me? Mine is very gentle, and if you will 


8 


MARGOLEEN. 


pardon me for scaring yours (which might have 
ended disastrously) I will see you safely to your 
destination. I was really unaware of your pres- 
ence until the accident occurred. Will you 
accept my apology? Please do,” he urged, “and 
let me put you upon my horse. ’ ’ 

“Most certainly you are forgiven,” said she, 
as her beautiful black eyes flashed upon him. 
“I am neither hurt nor scared, so you need not 
be alarmed about me. Dickson and I have these 
little flurries occasionally, but he must learn that 
I am to be obeyed, and consequently submit to 
my will, which he is fast learning to do. I do 
not wish to exchange horses, but, if 3^011 like, 
you may ride with me,” she continued, as she 
adjusted her jaunty cap over her shining braids, 
drew up her queenl> T figure, and gave Dickson 
a keen cut with her whip, which sent him into 
a gait that caused his beautiful chestnut sorrel to 
stretch its long limbs and ply its feet industrious^ 
in order to keep apace. 

After they were fairly started, he said to her, 
‘‘Under the precarious circumstances, I believe, 
I have been so forgetful as to fail to introduce 
myself. My name is Marion L,ewis, and I would 
be very much pleased to know whom I have 
the honor of escorting. ’ ’ 

‘‘My name is Ira Stanton.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


9 


“Thank you,” he replied courteously. 

“And do you reside in this vicinity?” 

“My father, who is a farmer, has lived for 
more than a year not farther than three miles 
from here. He, mother, and myself constitute 
our family.” 

“O yes, I recall to mind, your father, I pre- 
sume, is the late occupant of the Wickliff farm.” 

“Yes sir, he purchased the place and moved 
there some eighteen months ago. ’ ’ 

“Well, Miss Stanton, I wont admit that I am 
a recluse, neither am I selfishly disposed, but I 
love my home so much I seldom leave the plan- 
tation, and greatly fear I am remiss in my duty 
to my neighbors. I remember now to have met 
your father down at the city, and have thought 
to visit him, but this, like many other things, 
I have neglected to do; however, with your per- 
mission I would be pleased to amend my past 
conduct by calling on you at an early period.” 

Receiving her consent, he lifted her from her 
saddle; and holding the yard gate ajar for her to 
pass in, bade her a reluctant adieu. Three 
months later she became his wife, and like a 
queen on her roj^al throne, did she make the 
attempt to reign supreme at Cuthbert. All 
things she desired to bow in homage to her will. 
With riches, her love of admiration increased 


10 


MARGOLEEN. 


swaying everything that precluded her vain 
gratifications, bringing her husband to realize 
the discord of their natures. He was unassum- 
ing in his habits, and loved a quiet life, whilst 
she liked gayety and fashionable society, hence 
their hearts refused to harmonize, making their 
marriage a union of hands, not souls. How- 
ever, his vow to protect her was sacredly kept, 
and worthy a place on the records of Heaven. 

If his embrace of love was less tender, he ever 
treated her with kind consideration, looking 
upon her misgivings as more of a misfortune, 
than a fault to be censured, although he would 
not always yield to what he considered her 
erroneous ideas of a happy life, and her retorts 
rang vindictively upon his ear, when he adhered 
to his version of home comfort, or in other words, 
conjugal happiness. A gloom settled upon his 
brow, his hands had grasped an illusive dream, 
and opened but to find blighted prospects of a 
yearning life. 

Occasionally she felt the influence of his 
depressed spirits, and with feigned sympathy 
soothed him into a state of blissfulness. His 
heart thirsted for consolation, and when she laid 
her hand upon his shoulder, and looked sympa- 
thetically into his eyes, such moments would 
sweeten his life. 


MARGOLEEN. 


11 


“How exquisite one single drop of bliss 
That sparkles on the top of misery’s cup, 

What though to-morrow our sky be darker, 

That fact makes our blissful moments of to-day 
Cast intenser radiance while they last.” 

Five years had gone by, and Ira Lewis’ dis- 
position is l<#t unchanged. This evening she 
sits by the sick-bed of her husband, who has 
fallen into a quiet sleep, and as she watches the 
fire-light throw its flickering rays over the floor, 
the wind sounds pathetically mournful through 
the swaying elms, which are now bereft of ver- 
dure, and like the looming spires of their neigh- 
boring city, bear the impress of a kiss from cold 
winter’s frosty lips. Flake upon flake, the 
gently falling snow has covered roof and branch, 
until from distant view its white sheen places 
tower and earth upon a level, making the beau- 
tiful landscape an emblem of purity. 

The dying;day goes down under a dark canopy, 
and the world is hushed into silence. The fol- 
lowing morning a deep, tender gloom hung over 
the grand old mansion. Between the setting 
and rising of the sun, its mistress had been made 
a mother and a widow. 

“Good-bye, Ira, teach our boy to be a Chris- 
tian,’’ were the last words of Marion Lewis ere 
his soul took flight to Heaven. 


12 


MARGOLEEN. 


CHAPTER II. 

Thirty years of time have trailed the earth 
since the opening of our story. Again we look 
in upon Ira Stanton, who is still the widow of 
Marion Lewis and the mistress of Cuthbert, 
which, but for the wisdom of her husband, who 
entailed it to his son, would have long since 
(through her extravagance) been squandered, 
and passed into other hands. 

Again winter spreads her snowy mantle. Yes- 
terday the flakes fell thick and fast, necessarily 
keeping all in doors with only the privilege of 
breaking the monotony by gazing through the 
windows at the driving sheets. This morning, 
however, the sun shines sufficiently warm to 
melt it from the hillsides exposed to its rays, 
leaving the more shaded spots still wrapped in 
its cold embrace. 

Clad in a hunting suit of rich brown hue, 
Ethen Lewis stoops to buckle his snow-boots, 
when his attention is arrested by a scowl of dis- 
approval upon the brow of his mother. 

“What’s going wrong with your world now, 
ma mere? Wouldn’t you like to breakfast on 
birds and fresh hare?” quote he. 

“Not to the extent of having my plans for the 
day thwarted,” she replied. 


IvIARGOLEEN. 


13 


“And pray, what have I to do with frustrating 
your plans? Am I not always found on duty as 
regards the welfare of my most considerate 
mother? Pray don’t mar the pleasure of this 
day’s hunt, for the whining of my dogs, L,arkin 
and Don, show that they, like their master, are 
anxious to hie across the fields.” 

“Ethan, I’ll admit that in most things you are 
a dutiful son, and yet there are times when you 
provoke me almost beyond endurance. I have 
invited some young ladies to visit us, among 
whom is the accomplished heiress of the Pine 
Grove Mansion, and to-day, you well know, is 
the appointed time for their arrival. I imagine 
the embarrassment the non-appearance of my son 
will occasion at the reception.” 

“O mother,” said he, as a wearied look settled 
upon his liithert,o happy countenance, “is there 
no rest from this code of fashionable life? Is 
there no place one can hide and rest, at least for 
a time, from the stern law which fashionable 
society demands?” 

“I see you are not inclined to grant my wishes 
by remaining at home.” 

“I dislike to baffle your intrigue to throw the 
heiress and your most worthy son together, ’ ’ he 
replied, with curling lip, “but I’m not to be 
turned from my purpose,” so swinging his game 


14 


MARGOLEEN. 


sack over his neck, and shouldering his gun, he 
concluded, “I must hunt to-day, mother, but 
will come home early, and to-niglit play the 
agreeable to your heart’s content.” 

She stood at the window and watched him, as 
with dogs following close at his heels, he crossed 
the stile and walked from her sight. T hen going 
back to the fire, she dropped into her chair and 
involuntarily exclaimed, “O, what a boy, there 
never was, nor never will be, one just like him. 
Many fair women, of richest dower, have given 
him their hearts without the asking, and yet he 
doesn’t seem to acknowledge or appreciate his 
power of fascination. That he is a kind and 
honorable .son, cannot be disputed, yet I know 
it lies within his power to make me a much 
happier woman than I am. The quiet unevent- 
ful life I’m living, with no female companion, 
no husband, and often, on account of his ram- 
bling disposition, deprived of my son’s society, 
awakens me to the knowledge that he ought to 
marry. Miss Blanche Clifton, the aforesaid 
heiress, is the woman I have determined to call 
my daughter, hence planned this visit, that 
association may consummate my predominant 
wish, yet the eccentricity of Ethan’s disposition 
warns me that in engineering his future, an 
arduous task lies before me! His father before 


MARGOLEEN. 


15 


him was a very peculiar man, though I never 
doubted his devotion, for he was ever kind, 
never denying me any enjoyment whatever. 
His purse was never shut against my desires. 
He never neglected me in any way, and yet 
there was an irresponsiveness in our lives which, 
at times, made me feel a coldness through every 
fiber of my nature. In fact I think he must 
have been too old for me, his taste was always 
the opposite of mine. When I expressed a desire 
to spend a season in the city, he always accom- 
panied me, yet I could tell that he much pre- 
ferred the quietude of his country home. He 
bought me every article that my fastidious taste 
demanded, yet when I dressed myself in the 
most elaborate style and went to him for a word 
of praise, he surveyed me with a sad smile and 
answered my query (Don’tyour wife look pretty ?) 
by the words: ‘Beauty is adorned most, when 
unadorned.’ Yes, I know he loved me, and yet 
there was not much affinity between us. There 
was a depth in his nature I could never fathom, 
and now how plainly do I realize that not only 
the admirable traits of his father, but also his 
absurd peculiarities, are the inheritance of our 
son. Just how to manage him I do not know. 
If I urge my wish too strongly, he will at once 
leave home, and perhaps wander around the 


16 


MARGOLEEN. 


world twelve months before I see him again. 
He is now twenty-five years old, and if he ever 
intends to marry, why wait longer ? Miss Clifton 
is accomplished, queen-like in appearance, and 
dresses with faultless splendor; then too, her 
estate, together with that of my son’s, would be 
a most enviable object indeed. Now if I can 
bring him to reason he will at once see his folly 
in refusing to accede to my plans, and secure for 
himself this bright-plum aged bird, e’re it soars 
away to other realms, and is captured by a-4ess 
worthy man.” 

And thus a designing mother is scheming to 
marry her son to the object of her choice, instead 
of allowing the finger of God to point out to him 
the woman to whom his heart will spontaneously 
respond. Matrimony is a grand stage of action, 
and remembering that the greatest dramatist 
says, ‘‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with 
the mind,” can we take the great responsibility 
upon ourselves of mating other lives than our 
own? In other words, can we look through the 
window of another’s soul and discern the quali- 
ties essential to its happiness? No, no, a warn- 
ing voice from the sepulchre of wrecked hearts 
cries, ‘‘God forbid.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


17 


CHAPTER III. 

Mrs. Lewis met her visitors with a hearty 
welcome. Miss Clifton having laid aside her 
seal-skin wrap, sat by the glowing grate swaying 
gracefully back and forth in a large arm-roeker, 
her handsome brocaded skirts rustling upon the 
velvet carpet, while her over-polite hostess dis- 
sembled and feigned an excuse for her son’s 
absence. 

It will never do, thought she, to let her know 
that he left home on this particular occasion, 
merely to go hunting, so she told them that early 
that morning her son had very unexpectedly 
been called away on some urgent business. “He 
bade me tender his regrets,” she continued, “and 
say that he would be with us early this evening.” 
Miss Clifton seemed satisfied with the apology. 

Belle Seaton gave her head an independent 
toss, whilst Maud Lindsey looked at her pretty 
blue-eyed sister, Emma, questioningly. Plans 
for the season were then discussed by Mrs. Lewis 
and her four young lady visitors. As the shades 
of evening begun to lengthen, Mrs. Lewis grew 
restless, and excusing herself from her guests, 
left them, hurriedly sought her son’s valet and 
inquired: 

“Phil has your master returned?” 


18 


MARGOLEEN. 


“No ma’am,” was tlie reply. 

“Well Phil, I want you to keep watch for 
him, and as soon as he enters the plantation 
meet him and tell him for goodness sake to come 
around to the side or back entrance, as I do not 
wish our visitors to know that he has been out 
hunting to-day, knowing that we were expecting 
them. You understand, don’t you, Phil? He 
is very untlioughted, and just as apt to come in 
before them with gun and dogs as any other way, 
which might prove to be an unpardonable 
offense, so be on the alert, Phil.” 

“Certainly, Miss Ira, you may depend on me, 
the company-folks shan’t know Mars Ethen been 
hunting to-day.” 

Her fears somewhat alleviated by the assur- 
ance of Phil, she next proceeded to tell the 
house -keeper to spare no pains in giving the 
most elaborate finish to tea service. 

During her absence, Belle Seaton, the high- 
spirited, good-humored, flashing brunette, had 
left her seat and was sauntering about the room, 
when from a remote corner she drew forth an old 
chess-board, whose crevice formed a tenement 
for a huge spider. Shaking him from his abode, 
she laughingly exclaimed as she watched him 
run across the floor, causing the other girls to 
flee in terror to the opposite side of the room, 


* \ 


MARGOLEEN. 19 


“Oh girl?, don’t be frightened, I’ll open the door 
and let him out, for ’ tis an evident fact that he, 
like the master of Cuthberfc, prefers to seek other 
amusement than entertain us. Come girls, Mr. 
Spider is now gone; here is the board, let’s have 
a game all to ourselves. It isn’t often we can 
play a game independent of our superior sex, 
and I am sure we will enjoy the freedom of the 
occasion.” 

When Mrs. Lewis returned, she was pleased 
to see them apparently much interested in the 
game. She chatted gayly, yet her expectant 
gaze was often turned toward the door. Another 
hour had passed, her son had not yet made his 
appearance. Had he forgotten his training in 
etiquette? Did he not mean to be there to escort 
their guests to supper? Why did he not come? 

Consulting her watch again, she decided that 
it would be out of all propriety to wait longer, 
so she ordered supper, and concealing her em- 
barrassment as best she could, invited her guests 
out to the dining-room, assuring them of her 
son’s annoyance at being detained. 

“Dear Blanche,” she whispered, as she threw 
her arm lovingly around the waist of the heiress, 
an act plainly observed by Belle Seaton, “Ido 
so pity poor Ethan, since I know he nas so 
longed for the arrival of this day; ’tis too bad 


20 


MARGOLEEN. 


that he had to be called off so unexpectedly, but 
I am sure he will soon come in; ’tis growing 
late, and he said he would be with us early; I 
trust you will not attribute his absence to lack 
of appreciation.” 

“Oh, no,” replied Miss Clifton, as an insipid 
smile played about her mouth, and drawing down 
her aquiline nose she concluded, “I am sure 
some unavoidable event has detained him.” 

Supper being over, the house was lighted up 
in dazzling splendor. The effulgent pendants 
of the chandeliers in their crystal brightness 
seemed to vie with the burning lights. Each 
young lady in her turn had favored their hostess 
with their best execution on the piano. The 
last lingering strain of the pathetic song, ‘‘I’m 
Nobody’s Darling,” sung by blue-eyed Emma 
Lindsey, echoed through the spacious hall, when 
the door was ruthlessly thrust open, and Ethan 
Lewis, begored with blood, staggered in beneath 
a heavy burden held in his arms, which proved 
to be a wounded girl of nine summers, and who 
now in a dead swoon, lay peacefully against his 
agitated breast. 

The sound of Miss Lindsey’s voice, and the 
deep tone of the instrument, did not prevent the 
quick ear of Mrs. Lewis from recognizing the 
footsteps of her long-looked-for son, neither did 


MARGOLEEN. 21 


she fail to detect that he came in through the 
front door, and in an unusually boisterous man- 
ner at that. 

She tried to suppress her tears, but again left 
the room, this time taking great pains to shut 
the door securely after her. Hurriedly she sped 
down the hall- way, occasionally stepping over 
a spot of blood, which glared suggestively upon 
the inlaid marble floor, and which sent an addi- 
tional pang to her already fearful heart. On and 
on she flew, after his receding footsteps, and 
reached the back sitting-room in time to see him 
lay a limp figure, with pale face and tangled 
hair, upon the sofa. 


CHAPTER IV. 

“O, my son,” she cried, as standing aghast, 
she beheld the awful spectacle, “what does this 
mean? Are you hurt Ethan?” she continued, 
as she looked at his blanched cheek. 

“No, no, mother,” he replied, “do be quick 
to bring me some water, camphor, or something, 
can’t you see? O, I have killed this poor child, 
what am I to do? Hasn’t Phil gotten back yet? 
I told him to run for Dr. Bedford, and it does 
seem that he has had ample time to get back.” 

The Doctor came in to find the remorseful 
man on his knees, chaffing the hands of the still 


22 


MARGOLEEN. 


unconscious girl, audibly upbraiding himself 
for the terrible accident. His lamentation was 
truly affecting, nor did he seem conscious of the 
Doctor’s presence until he patted him on the 
shoulder and said, “Mr. Ethan, I am here; come, 
what is the occasion of this scene?” 

“I accidentally shot this child, Doctor, and 
fear I have killed her,” he answered with plead- 
ing eyes. 

The Doctor, placing his ear to the child’s 
heart, and examining her pulse, said, “Oh, no, 
she is not dead by any means, only faint from 
loss of blood. ’ ’ And upon further examination 
assured them that the wound was not fatal, the 
shot having only entered the fleshy part of her 
arm and hip. 

“Thank God,” said Ethan, “and now Doctor, 
do all you can to restore her; money shall be no 
object.” 

While Mrs. Lewis sat vaguely listening, and 
the Doctor applied restoratives, held by his will- 
ing hands, Ethan explained to them that having 
enjoyed his day’s hunt so much, he unfortunately 
forgot he had promised his mother to return 
early, and was surprised to find it almost dark 
ere he thought to turn his steps homeward, being 
some distance off too, heavily loaded with the 
game of a successful day’s hunt, and a little foot 


MARGOLEEN. 


23 


weary, he was slowly approaching home, after 
the gathering darkness had overtaken him, when 
a dark object moved behind the huge gate-post 
of Cuthbert avenue. He, mistaking the object 
for a dog that was reported as having been seen 
trespassing his sheep pastures, fired the fatal 
shot, which to his horror was followed by the 
piercing cry of the wounded child. Throwing 
his gun down he gained the spot to find the girl 
lying with face downward upon the cold ground. 
He shook her and tried to raise her up, but as 
no motion or sound followed that first shrill 
scream, the great fear that her life was extinct 
seized upon him, and scarcely realizing what he 
did, he gathered her in his strong arms and ran 
towards home. Meeting Phil, whom his mother 
had stationed at the gate, he called to him in an 
imperious voice to fly for Dr. Bedford, and taking 
in the situation at a glance, Phil awaited no 
explanation, but hurried on at his utmost speed. 

“And had you taken my advice and remained 
at home,” interrupted his mother, “the accident 
would not have occurred . 5 ’ 

Ethan made no reply to these words, in fact 
’tis doubtful that he heard them, since he was 
so anxiously watching the patient, whose move- 
ments of hands and limbs were now beginning 
to indicate returning life, although the eyelids 


24 


MARGOLEEN. 


were still closed, and the thin lips tightly com- 
pressed. Her wound being nicely dressed, the 
Doctor took leave, telling them she would soon 
be all right, and that he would call early the 
next morning. 

After his exit, Mrs. Lewis said to her son, 
“Ethan, the child seems to be getting along 
nicely now; and our guests must feel that we are 
neglecting them, suppose we call in the house- 
keeper, or my maid, to watch beside the patient, 
and we go to our visitors. I am sure an explan- 
ation, and an apology too, is due them. You 
will find your room and clothing in waiting. Do 
hurry and cleanse yourself of that bloody garb, 
and for goodness sake don’t look like you had 
committed murder, or stolen something; do look 
pleasant, by all means.” 

“But the child, mother; can I smile and know 
that I am the cause of her pain?” 

“Oh pshaw son, the girl is all right, besides 
you do not know what kind of cattle she is. I’ll 
be bound she’ll be up bj' times in the morning, 
and likely as not ready to pocket every available 
article she can conveniently conceal, and then 
you will feel rewarded for j^our pains, no doubt.” 

“I shall not trust her to the care of the depend- 
ents, not yet, at least,” said he. 

“You are a silly goose,” she answered, know- 


MARGOLEEN. 


25 


ing full well that he meant just what he said, 
aud that she would have trouble in removing 
this difficult}". So she next suggested that she 
herself would remain with the child, if he would 
go to the young ladies and explain, what she 
considered, his impoliteness. 

“Sit with them until bedtime, Ethan,” she 
continued. “I’ll take care of this unfortunate 
child, who has imprudently strayed too late, and 
thereby met the consequences. ’ ’ 

“Enough, mother, you may go to our visitors 
and make my excuses for me. Tell them I have 
been so unfortunate as to accidentally wound a 
little girl, and that I shall not leave her until I 
am satisfied of her recovery, and beg her for- 
giveness.” 

“And mark my words, Ethan, you’ll live to 
repeut your decision,” and the eyes of Ira Eewis 
flashed a dangerous gleam upon the sleeping 
child, who started nervously at the unkind 
slamming of the door, as the angry woman swept 
disdainfully from the room, leaving her son 
astonished at her incompassionate heart. 

Going back to the parlor, she insisted upon 
the girls resuming their music, which they gra- 
ciously did, while she framed an excuse for her 
son’s behavior. The sweet song of Belle Seaton 
was not in unison with the raging billows of her 


26 


MARGOLEEN. 


soul, as unmindful of its sentiment she sat gazing 
into the fire and planned an apology to suit the 
emergency. 

Alone with his charge, Ethan sat watching 
the workings of her features, when slowl3 r she 
opened her great violet eyes of soulful expres- 
sion, whose marvelous tenderness shone into his 
like clear deep pools of water, at whose depth 
dark tinted autumn leaves are lying. The strong 
man, dumb with admiration, watched her turn 
her gaze upon the richly furnished room, allow- 
ing it to linger upon a beautiful painting of 
Cuthbert, upon whose doorstep stood a handsome 
lad, his arm thrown lovingly around the neck of 
his favorite dog. When again her eyes sought 
his face, their legible expression told that she 
recognized the boy to be a picture of the man 
before her. 

The lovely adorningsof the apartment, together 
with the sweet strains of music issuing from the 
parlor, seemed for a time to lull her into a state 
of hallucination, and when Ethan inquired if 
she felt better, she evaded the question by asking 
where she was. 

“Oh where am I ?’ ’ was her cry. “I am surely 
dead, and this is Heaven, but where is mother 
that she does not come to greet her Margo- 
leen?” 


MARGOLEEN. 


27 


CHAPTER V. 

Gathering tears filled the eyes of Ethan Lewis, 
which convinced the child of his sincerity, while 
he explained to her that he was the cause of her 
suffering. 

“No, thank Heaven, you are not dead little 
girl,” he continued, “you may rest assured that 
you are in the hands of a friend, who feels that 
nothing he can do will atone for the pain he has 
given you, and now will you forgive me, and tell 
me your name?” 

“I don’t care. It don’t hurt me much now,” 
she answered in childish sympathy. “My name 
is Margoleen Melbroke, but the folks at the inn 
call me Marg, and Dinah said if I came home 
without the cow this time she would beat me. 
That’s her lowing now,” and turning her ear to 
listen, she sprang suddenly to her feet and called 
aloud, “Souke Pied.” All color forsook her 
face, with the exception of a blue circle around 
her mouth, which showed that pain had over- 
powered her and checked her flight. Gently he 
laid her back upon the pillows, and reaching 
for a class of wine, quickly held it to her pale 
lips and bade her drink. Thus revived, she 
continued: 

“I must go on after her, or she’ll be gone, and 
I ’ll be afraid to go in the dark after her. ’ ’ Turn- 


23 


MARGOLEEN. 


iug upon the side of the couch, she again made 
the attempt to arise. 

“Poor child,” said he, “you cannot go. You 
must be quiet. No one shall harm you here.” 

“But,” said she, after the pain caused by her 
exertion had passed away, “Dinah told me, when 
she sent me for the cow this time, that if I didn’t 
fetch her, I need never come back myself, if I 
did she would beat me soundly, and I’m so afraid 
to sleep out in the night, for Dinah says the devil 
would be sure to catch me, and I thought I heard 
him coming when I hid behind the gate-post at 
that pretty place to listen only just a little bit to 
the sweet music. Oil, you had better let me go 
on, you wouldn’t want the devil to get a poor 
little girl like me, would you? Dinah would be 
glad of it, I know she would, for she said so, but 
mother said if I would be good and mind, that 
God would take me up in Heaven to live with 
her, and pshaw, I must go take Pied home, for 
I had a heap better time with mother than I do 
with Dinah.” 

Finding that persuasion was of no avail, he 
consequently assumed an air of authority, and 
in as stern a voice as he could then bring himself 
to speak to her, said: 

“Margoleen you must be quiet. I can’t let 
you go to-night; you are my little girl now, at 


MARGOLEEN. 


29 


least until you get well, so cease fretting and go 
to sleep.” 

“Won’t Dinah and Hicks come here after me, 
and beat me ’cause I don’t come on with Pied?” 

“No, no, child, you are in safe hands. Do go 
to sleep, and when you are better you may tell 
me all about it. ’ ’ 

“Well this is a mighty pretty place to sleep 
in,” she said, as again her eyes surveyed the 
apartment. 

Finding it quite necessary, he administered 
the opiate left by the Doctor, to be given in case 
of wakefulness. After watching her fall into a 
peaceful slumber, being quite tired from his tramp 
over the rough frozen ground the previous day, 
he concluded to prepare for a doze at least, so 
wrapping himself in his great coat, with a foot- 
stool in front under the rocker, and his feet 
against the couch upon which the child lay, he 
threw his chair into a recumbent position and 
tried to sleep, but vain was the attempt. The 
entire night was spent in brooding over his 
unfortunate mistake, and in wondering who and 
what the attractive child could be. That she 
was an orphan and living with brutal people, 
was evident by her incoherent speeches, as she 
occasionally moved restlessly, and in her sleep 
insisted on going after Pied. But her parentage 


30 


MARGOLEEN. 


was left a veiled mystery, which he determined 
to solve as soon as he deemed it expedient. ‘ ‘ My 
mother’s heart is set against this child,” he 
soliloquized, just because she wished my presence 
in the parlor to-night instead of here, where duty 
demands that I should be. For I am sure atten- 
tion is needed, and she shall not want for any 
service I can render her; neither shall one night’s 
vigilance be all, she shall have every attention 
that I or my money can procure, and if I find 
that she is really an outcast, by jove, I’ll adopt 
her, regardless of my mother’s sneers. I am 
master of Cuthbert, and if I choose to give a 
poor little waif a home, whom need it concern. 
My mother, I am sure, will be no less consid- 
ered, and as she is ever complaining of having 
no female companion, this arrangement might 
prove to be the very thing for her. Yes, as I 
have no desire to encumber myself with the 
modern wife of society, this little girl might serve 
to appease her liarrague about me marrying, and 
content her to try to train it up to her liking, or 
who in turn, which would be far better, might 
so infuse her innocent spirit as to cause my 
mother, though late in life, to turn from her 
fraudulent purpose to more noble desires. And 
thus ran his muse until the loud song of the 
chanticleer swelled the glad tidings of another 


MARGOLEEN. 


31 


day’s dawn. Then going noiselessly, on tip-toe, 
to the door of the house-keeper he rapped gently, 
and on being asked by a voice from within, “who 
comes there?” lie answered, “It is I, Mrs. Moor- 
leighh’ 

“You, Mr. Lewis?” she inquired, “what has 
happened. Is your mother sick?” 

“No, no, I want you to come down to the back 
sitting-room; I have something to say to you 
there. ’ ’ 

“You don’t mean that you want me to come 
before breakfast?” 

“Yes, yes, come right on as soon as you are 
dressed. Don’t disturb anyone, as I wish to see 


3'ou alone.” 

Hurrying back he sat by the fire awaiting her 
arrival, when opening the door she made her 
appearance with apparent wonder stamped upon 
her countenance. 

“What will you have?” she inquired of him. 

“Come in Mrs. Moorleigh, be seated,” he 
added, proffering her a chair. 

She took a seat, but looked from the sleeping 
child to Ethan’s face questioniugly. 

“I see you are wondering what this means,” 
he said, nodding his head toward the couch. 
He then explained all to her, also his mother’s 
actions the night previous. 


32 


MARGOLEEN. 


“And has she not been in during the night to 
see about the child !” 

“No, Mrs. Moorleigh, I am sorry to say it, 
but my mother has never shown her face here 
since I refused to go to the parlor last night.” 

“Well, Mr. Lewis,” said the kind-hearted old 
lady, “don’t worry about it, you know your 
mother can’t surely mean harm to the little girl, 
only she always wants us to do as she commands. 
She’ll be all right I dare say, when she thinks 
the matter over. ’Tis a great pity for you and 
the child too, but we can’t prevent accidents. 
She’ll be well in a few days,” she continued, as 
she bent and examined the child; “she is a pretty 
little thing; trust me, Mr. Lewis, I’ll help you 
nurse her, and your mother will too when she 
considers the matter.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

Reassured by the sympathy and encourage- 
ment of Mrs. Moorleigh, Ethan felt better, and 
leaving his charge in the hands of this good 
woman for awhile, went to his room, bathed his 
face and eyes, which were now red from the loss 
of sleep, and dressed himself preparatory to 
meeting their guests. Having given his rather 
hasty toilet the finishing touches, he descended 


MA-RGOLEEN. 


33 


the stairs to find his mother all smiles, stationed 
in the hall to receive him. 

“Good morning, son,” said she, “are you quite 
sure you are able to be up this morning after 
being out in the cold yesterday?” 

“I am quite well, thank you, mother,” he 
answered, as he approached, laid his arm ca- 
ressingly around her shoulders and kissed her 
upon the cheek. 

Without mentioning the accident of the pre- 
vious night, together they went to the parlor, 
and after the usual formula of introduction, led 
their visitors out to a sumptuous breakfast, where, 
with the tact of a true Kentuckian, he did the 
honors of the table. His hospitality, rendered 
with such accomplished grace, stirred the admir- 
ation of all present. The meal being over, he 
remained with them until several hours of the 
morning had passed, when excusing himself he 
hurried to relieve the house-keeper of what he 
deemed his especial charge. On entering the 
room he was rejoiced to find the little girl sitting 
propped up with a pillow, while Mrs. Moorleigh 
combed out her beautiful silken ringlets of bur- 
nished gold, which had hitherto been one solid, 
tangled mat. The little white gown which, by 
his suggestion, had taken the place of the well- 
worn, faded, blood-besmeared dress, togethe 


34 


MARGOLEEN. 


with her clean washed face, and the sightly ap- 
pearance of the bed apparel, gave the apartment, 
which was already becoming a sanctum of purity 
to him, an additional charm. 

“See Margoleen,” he said, as he held up a 
nosegay plucked from the choicest plants of the 
hot-house, “I have brought my little sufferer 
some flowers. How do you feel this morning ?” 
he continued, as he seated himself beside the 
couch and held the flowers close for her inspec- 
tion. 

“Oh, how good of you,” she exclaimed, as her 
eager hands grasped and placed them to her 
nose. “But where did you get them? How 
could they grow in the cold snow ? I could never 
find any in the snow.” 

He then explained to her the art of raising 
flowers by the process of a hot-house, concluding 
by repeating his query, “But you have not told 
me how you feel this morning?” 

“Oh, I feel real good, only when I try to .stand 
up I get sick again.” 

“And have you eaten any breakfast?” 

“Yes indeed, I liked that boiled bird, and the 
nice biscuit, but she,” pointing to Mrs. Moor- 
leigli, “wouldn’t let me eat as much as I 
wanted. ” 

“That is Mrs. Moorleigh, Margoleen; she is 


MARGOLEEN. 


35 


your friend, and is afraid for you to satisfy j^our 
appetite until you are better. She fears it might 
create fever to load j-our stomach, but never 
mind little one, when you are stronger you may 
eat all you want. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” he assented, when Mrs. Moorleigh 
asked if she could be excused for a while, “and 
many thanks for your kindness,” he added. 

“Is there any message you would like for me 
to deliver to the servants?” she inquired, as she 
held the door ajar to depart. 

“No, no, Phil understands my orders for the 
day; but stay, yes, hold on,” he called after she 
had passed the threshold, “have one of the little 
negro girls cleaned up and sent to me, I wish 
her in here to wait upon the sick child. ’ ’ 

“Which one would you have me send?” 

“Well, send Tricksy, she is not so likely as 
some of the rest, but her antic ways are surely 
diverting, and with all she is a kind-hearted 
creature. * ’ 

Being left to resume his conversation with the 
little girl, he said, “Now Margoleen, I want 
you to tell me who it is you call Dinah and 
Hicks?” 

“Oh, Dinah is the woman, and Hicks is the 
man I live with.” 

“And where do they live?” 


MARGOLEEN. 


36 


“Down at the city, where they keep the Row- 
land Inn.” 

“And have they no name but Dinah and 
Hicks?” 

“Don’t you know Dinah and Hicks?” she re- 
plied. “Dinah’s face is red, and Hick’s hair is 
yellow. ’ ’ 

He smiled, as he answered in the negative. 
“No I don’t happen to be acquainted with them. 
But how came you to be living with them? Are 
ycu akin?” 

“No indeed,” she answered, assuming an air 
of dignity. “My father was an Englishman, 
who was lost in a shipwreck, and my mother 
died on a steamboat.” 

“What was her name?” 

“Her name was Agnes Melbroke.” 

“And how old were you when she died, Mar- 
goleen?” 

“I was six years old and going on seven, but 
now I am nine.” 

“How did you say you came to be living with 
Dinah?” 

“Oh, I didn’t say at all; but when mother 
died I cried and cried, they took her off the boat 
and buried her under a big tree. Hicks cried, 
but Dinah didn’t though. Hicks took me by 
the hand and said, ‘Old woman, we’ll take the 


MARGOLEEN. 


37 


young one, she’ll be a heap of help to you in 
time.’ ‘All right,’ answered Dinah, but we’ll 
have no airs about her; I’ll learn her to work to 
be sure.’ ” 

“What did Dinah and Hicks do on the boat?” 

“Hicks cooked, and Dinah cleaned the state- 
rooms and swept the water from the gangway . ’ ’ 

“Do you love to live with Dinah?” he in- 
quired. 

“I don’t know,” she answered, “I haven’t 
anywhere else to live. Dinah says if it had not 
been for her I would be dead and in the bottom 
of the river, and I sometimes wish I was. I like 
Hicks better’ n I do Dinah.” 

“Why do you like him best?” 

“ ’Cause I do.” 

“Does he whip you?” 

“No he don’t beat me like Dinah does.” 

Noticing that her eyes were full of tears, he 
said to her, “Margoleen, how would you like to 
live here and be my little girl?” 

“Oh, may I ?” said she, and she looked at him 
imploringly. 

“I will see about it, but you must promise to 
be a good girl, and be certain to obey my 
mother. ’ ’ 

“I will try,” said she, “but who is your 
mother? Have I seen her?” 


38 


MARGOLEEN. 


“Not to-day, but you will see her; she is a very 
beautiful lady, and you must be sure to mind 
her if you wish her to love you.” 

They were here interrupted by his mother 
opening the door to admit the doctor, who accord- 
ing to promise had called early in the day to see 
his patient. 

“Good-morning sissy,” he said in his bland 
way, “you are lots better, ar’n’t you?” 

“Oh, yes, yes, Mr. Eewis,” he answered the 
inquiring eyes of Ethan, “she will soon be well, 
only keep her composed until the wound heals 
and all will be well.” 

“Ethan,” said his mother, who still stood in 
the door, “there’s a man out here who wishes 
to .see you.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

Going to the front door, he beheld a lank, 
blear-eyed, dowdily-dressed individual standing 
upon the doorstep, who wore earrings of half- 
moon design, and a green set ring upon his 
finger, his towsled hair, whose yellow locks 
reached nearly to his shoulders, together with 
his thin visage, presenting a ludicrous spectacle. 
Eifting his slouched hat and courtesy ing low, 
he inquired, “Be this the master of Cuthbert?” 


MARGOLEEN. 


39 


“My name is Lewis,” was the reply, and con- 
tinued, “to whom am I indebted for this call?” 

“Hicks is my name, and I chance to be the 
landlord of Lowland Inn.” 

“Walk in, Mr. Hicks,” said Ethan, as he led 
the way to the library, and seated him by the fire. 

“The air is chill this morning,” began Hicks, 
as he warmed his shaking hands over the glow- 
ing grate, “but my business is urgent sir, yes, 
urgent sir; our little Marg stayed out last night, 
and I have been searching for her these four 
hours, fearing she may have died of the cold.” 

“Why did you wait until the night was spent 
to begin your search, ’ ’ asked Ethan with clouded 
brow. 

“Well you see sir, I didn’t know but what the 
young one was ter home in bed, until my wife 
told me this morning that she was not tliar, nor 
hadn’t been, since she sent her after the cow,” 
and wiping a tear from his face with his horny 
hand, he continued, “I had searched the woods 
everywhere between here and the city, and had 
about given up, when I met your man,” alluding 
to Phil, “who told me that the master of Cuthbert 
had accidentally shot a little girl while returning 
home last evening. ’ ’ 

“Evening, fiddle-sticks,” cried Ethan, “it was 
pitch dark when I came upon the child. What 


40 


MARGOLEEN. 


did you and your wife mean to liave her out in 
the snow, and at such an hour?” 

‘‘Oh, sir, it was not I indeed, but Dinah will 
have her way; it was her who sent Marg for the 
cow, preferring to keep me ter home to peel the 
potatoes and help with the supper. Please tell 
me about the poor lassie. Is she here? And is 
she hurt much? 

‘ ‘Yes sir, she is here, and here she shall remain 
my adopted protege. You know full well,” he 
thundered in a wrathful voice, and shook his 
clinched fist in the face of the now cowering 
Hicks, ‘‘that you have suffered this little girl to 
be cruelly treated, and besides I am convinced 
that you have no more rightful claim upon her 
than have I, therefore I repeat sir, that hence- 
forth Cuthbert is her home, and that I, in legal 
form, shall be made her rightful protector. No, 
thank Heaven, her injuries are not considered 
fatal, and rest assured she shall have every com- 
fort needful to her recovery.” 

‘‘What will Dinah say? She can’t get along 
without the brat, and will blame me with every 
bit of it, I’m sure.” 

‘‘No matter,” said his opponent, “you allowed 
her to mistreat this innocent child, now settle it 
between you. But,” continued he, as Hicks 
arose to depart, “here is a ten dollar gold piece 


MARGOLEEN. 


41 


I will give you if you will tell me truly all you 
know of her parentage.” 

“I don’t know much to tell. Her mother, 
who was a sad faced lady, and who wore a crape 
veil over her bonnet, came aboard our boat one 
day, leading the young one by the hand. She 
registered as Agnes Melbroke, and claimed that 
she was searching for relatives of her husband, 
who was reported as having been lost in a ship- 
wreck. I can’t tell you no more, only that she 
moped until she fell sick and died, leaving the 
little one with no one to set claim to her. We 
anchored the boat and buried her under a beau- 
tiful tree, not far from the shore, and Dinah and 
me have had the child ever since. No you may 
keep your pay,” he continued, as he turned 
from the coin held out in Ethan’s palm, ‘‘it 
would seem like blood-money, when I’m only 
too glad that the poor little thing has fallen into 
good hands. Only I fear the rage of Dinah 
when she finds our Marg is gone for good and 
always.” 

With these words he left the house, and Ethan 
knew that beneath the rude exterior there lurked 
a kind spirit which, but for fear of his ill-natured 
companion, would predominate. 

The doctor on his way out stopped to give di- 
rections concerning his treatment, then laugh- 


42 


MARGOLEEN. 


ingly told Ktlian that he ought to hear his 
mother and the sick child conversing. 

“What,” he ejaculated, “is mother there?” 

“To be sure,” said the doctor, “and realty, 
Eewis, I don’t think I ever saw her enjoy any- 
thing more than she does talking to the little 
girl, whose quaint speeches and innocent ques- 
tions could not fail to interest. ’ ’ 

“The child is an outcast, doctor, and I have 
a mind to adopt her. What do you think 
of it?” 

' “Bravo, my man; I have always known that 
you possessed a kind heart,” and the genial old 
doctor took his departure. 

“Oh, how glad I would be if mother would 
learn to love her,” thought Ethan, as in dress- 
ing gown and slippers, he stole softly down the 
corridor and peeped through the crevice of the 
door at his mother, who remained alone with 
the child. Never did she feel dearer to him 
than at this moment when he saw her leaning 
over the couch, explaining the scenes in a pic- 
ture book which she held for the child’s gratifi- 
cation. How sublime the deeds of woman when 
working in the sphere ordained by God. 

And just now her son’s heart went out to her 
in exuberant tenderness. Going quickly to her 
side, he smilingly said, “this is a beautiful tab- 


MARGOLEEN. 


43 


leau, mother ; tell me what you think of our 
little girl by now. ” 

“She seems a great deal better, and I find her 
quite interesting.” 

“Well, I have decided to adopt her, as much 
for your sake as her own, mother. I am sure 
you will find her a great deal of company for 
you, more especially when I’m away from 
home.” 

A little misgiving could be detected in his 
countenance as she answered with hesitancy, 
“Perhaps so,” then continued, “but don’t you 
intend to marry, Ethan?” 

“Oh, yes mother, some time in the future I 
may be lassoed by the matrimonial halter, but 
like the wild horse of the prairie, I prefer to 
enjoy my freedom yet awhile.” 

At this juncture Tricksy’s keen eyes, whose 
quisical expression could not fail to . evoke 
laughter, peered into the room as she inquired, 
“Mars Ethan, do you w T ants me?” 

“Yes, come in Tricksy and and let me see 
how you look.” 

The little stumpy negress entered. Her ebony 
complexion contrasted greatly with the white 
rag tied over her head, and her long cotton apron 
stretched far towards a pair of naked feet, whose 
great toes turned up, as if they too wished to 


44 


MARGOLEEN. 


inquire for wliat purpose they were summoned 
herein. 

“Turn all around Tricksy,” said he laughing, 
while his mother looked on in amazement. 
Placing her heel in the soft meshes of the car- 
pet, she lifted the other foot and spun around 
like a top. 

“That will do, I believe you are the best 
looking girl I have, but where are your shoes 
Tricksy?” 

“Yes sir, I spec I is,” was her answer to his 
compliment. “I leff my shoes and stocking out 
at the door, case I didn’t wanter git dirt on 
missus fine carpet.” 

“Go this minute and put your shoes on, you 
will kill yourself going barefooted this cold 
weather. ’ ’ 

On her way out, .she looked back over her 
shoulder and answered with a grin that exposed 
a beautiful set of white teeth, set in blue gums. 

“Yes sir, but I likes clean things, I does, and 
my shoes ain’t berry nice.” 

“Never mind, you put them on, and when I 
go down to the city, I’ll bring you some new 
ones.” 

Elated at the idea of having new shoes, she 
dexterously pulled her old ones on while her 
master explained to her and her mother, that he 


MARGOLEEN. 


45 


wished her to stay there as a maid for Margo- 
leen. 

“I have no objection,” replied his mother, 
“but would judge her to be a lame excuse to 
serve as waiting maid.” 

While this conversation is verj' interesting, 
we must not forget the young lady visitors, but 
leave the patient, who is now getting along 
nicbly, and is all absorbed in the antic move- 
ments of her maid, while we return with Mrs. 
L,ewis and her son, to their guests. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

It is now difficult to determine which of the 
four young ladies is more deeply impressed with 
Ethan Lewis. The Lindsey girls have strongly 
argued whether his eyes are gray or brown, but 
compromised by declaring his luxuriant brown 
moustache the handsomest they had ever seen. 
Belle Seaton said she liked him immensely well, 
whilst the heiress resolved in her heart that she 
herself would be the future mistress of Cuthbert, 
whose master had now, by the laws of his coun- 
try, been made the guardian of Margoleen Mel- 
broke. 

Two weeks had gone by since the arrival of 
their guests, and Mrs. Lewis decided that with 


46 


MARGOLEEN. 


the exception of a little more time spent in the 
room of the sick child than she deemed neces- 
sary, her son had played the gallant beautifully. 
So wrapped was she in the delusive dream of 
Miss Clifton becoming her daughter-in-law 
that she imagined his preference for her decided. 
That Belle Seaton was a favorite with him, was 
plainly discerned, by his changeful expression 
when speaking of the young ladies, and when in 
conversation with her you could not fail to de- 
tect his admiration of her genial spirit. 

They were all assembled in the parlor one 
evening, busily engaged in a lively conversa- 
tion, when Ethan’s attention was arrested by 
the thud of the (now convalescent) child’s 
crutch upon the hall floor. 

He listened to her slowly limp on until she 
came in view, then wdthout raising her eyes to 
look into the room, was about to pass by the 
door, when he called to her to stop. 

“Come in here, Margoleen, I wish you to see 
these ladies.” Timidly she crossed the floor, 
and going straight to him, stood with her hand 
upon the back of his chair, her eyes upon the 
carpet, to core -al her embarrassment. Her sym- 
metrical form was now clad in a neat-fitting 
plaid merino dress, which, together with other 
necessary clothing, had been purchased by her 


MARGOLEEN. 


47 


guardian. A little knot of pink ribbon held 
back from her face (which yet bore traces of suf- 
fering) a beautiful cluster of ringlets that hung 
from her shapely head. 

“Look up, my wounded bird,” he said, plac- 
ing his long, keen fingers beneath her chin, and 
raising her face. “I want these ladies to see 
you,” and a look of admiration gleamed in his 
own eyes. 

The child looked up to be abashed by the un- 
dertone of Miss Clifton, who with a contemptu- 
ous air, said to Maud Lindsey: 

“I can’t see why some people make them- 
selves so silly about children. Thank goodness, 
I was never given to humoring them, conse- 
quently, I get rid of them hanging around after 
me.” 

As if to divert her attention from this audible, 
and unkind speech, Ethan said, “Margoleen, 
did you ever see these ladies before?” 

“I have seen that one,” she answered, point- 
ing her finger at Belie Seaton. 

“How came you to know Miss Seaton?” he 
asked, with a questioning look at Belle, which 
brought a blush to her cheek by its intensity. 

“Because she gave me this,” was her reply, 
as she caught hold of a delicate gold chain that 
encircled her creamy throat. 


48 


MARGOLEEN. 


“And were you two acquainted before you 
came here?” 

“Oh, no; Miss Belle comes to my room and 
helps Mrs. Moorleigh dress my wounds, and she 
gave me this necklace.” 

“Because she was so patient when we nursed 
her,” put in Miss Seaton, “and now, Mr. 
Lewis,” she concluded, “with your permission 
I will play for Margoleeu.” 

“You said you would,” exclaimed the child 
with enthusiasm. 

“Yes, dear, and this being the first oppor- 
tunity, I will comply with my promise.” 

So, seating herself at the piano, she inquired: 
“What will you have me play for Margoleen?” 

“I don’t know. Give her Yankee Doodle, 
My Sweetheart is the Man in the Moon, or such 
like,” suggested Ethan. 

Complying with his request, she played 
Yankee Doodle, Golden Slippers, etc., whilst he 
watched the expression of the child’s face to 
find that this style of music had failed to touch 
the responsive chord of her soul. Calling to 
Miss Belle, he requested her to play that beauti- 
ful and touching old song, “Kathleen Mavour- 
neen.” 

Again studying the face of his ward, he dis- 
covered great teardrops well tq her eyes, and 


MARGOLEEN. 


49 


fall upon her heaving bosom, and before the 
song was ended he was compelled to carry her 
from the room in uncontrollable weeping. 

‘'What makes you cry, Margie?” he whis- 
pered, as he carried her out. ‘‘I don’t know,” 
was all the answer he received. Yet he well 
understood that her soul was full to overflowing. 
This grand old song never fails to exert its 
power over the heart susceptible to sublime 
feelings. 

It stirs the ashes of the past, 

And fans the embers bright, 

To read our conscience, mark our sins, 

The candle it ignites. 

Bathed in its influential dews, 

We do no wilful wrong; 

Yea, borne from earth each sordid thought 
Envvrapted in this sweet song. 

Who could resist the deep toned voice 
That thrills the soul with love, 

Sweet symbol of what life should be, 

Lent from a world above. 

The pathos in its wonderous strains, 

Our deluged hearts reveal, 

As trickling down e’en furrowed cheeks, 
Balsamic tear-drops steal. 

When Ethan went back, Miss Clifton told him 
that she feared he had made a bad selection in 
feminine greatness, since she thought his ward 


50 


MARGOLEEN. 


had betrayed a shallowness in weeping over a 
sentimental, or love song. 

“She is yet pure and unscathed by the deceit- 
fulness of her more learned sex, or in other 
words, she has not yet learned the art of success- 
fully hiding her real feelings. ’ ’ 

“As the modest violet in the forest, fashioned 
by the hand of nature, she stands ready to sway 
or bend to each passing breeze. And do you 
really believe she loves music, Mr. Lewis ?” she 
continued. 

“That she has the power to fully appreciate 
it, I am confident.” 

“Upon what evidence do you base your opin- 
ion?” 

“As I profess to be somewhat of a physiogno- 
mist, my opinion is well founded, and consider- 
ing music a part of a refined education, that 
helps in moulding the heart and mind, I shall 
spare no pains in giving her the benefit of good 
teachers in this branch of training.” 

“And a great waste of money it will be,” she 
answered, with a shrug of her well-rounded 
shoulders, “but pardon me, Mr. Lewis, I do not 
mean to dishearten you on a subject you seem 
so much enthused over, I only meant to tease 
you. I am sure you have a right to your own 
conjecture, but as prudence is said to be the 


MARGOLEEN. 


51 


better part of valor, a little word of warning is 
sometimes necessary, and with the wise often 
sufficient. I trust you will not deem me pre- 
sumptuous in offering friendly advice in the 
matter?” 

He answered in the negative, yet the irritating 
smile that played around his strong mouth showed 
that his words belied his feelings. The conver- 
sation was here interrupted by a'servant bring- 
ing in a salver of nice apples, whose delicious- 
ness for the present drowned the venomous 
counsel of the designing heiress, and Ethan took 
this opportunity to absent himself, in order to 
calm his somewhat ruffled spirit, but soon reap- 
peared to inform his mother and the girls that 
the sleigh was in waiting, and as Phil reigned 
the smoking bay steeds at the front door, his 
master assisted the ladies into the sleigh, tucked 
the buffalo robe over their laps, and with the 
shout, ‘‘All- off for a sleigh ride,” gave the 
ponies a tap with his whip, sending them into a 
canter, which told that they too enjoyed the 
exhilerating air, glancing back he discovered a 
little pale face pressed against the window-pane, 
looking wistfully after them, which checked his 
hitherto flow of spirits. 

“Mother,” said he, “suppose we drive back 
and get Margoleen.” 


52 


MARGOLEEN. 


“Nonsense, Ethan, she is not strong enough 
to be out yet. ’ ’ 

“I don’t believe it would hurt her.” 

“It might cause her to be lame the remainder 
of the winter. ’ ’ 

Thus dissuaded he rather recklessly urged the 
horses into a gallop, leaving the receding picture 
of Cuthbert soon lost to their view. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Haunted by the sad little face at the window, 
Ethan felt indisposed to protract their stay from 
home, consequently proposed an early return, 
but the earnest entreaty of his mother, coupled 
with an expressed desire from the heiress to go 
further, mside it quite impolite to refuse their 
request, so he drove on until quite late before 
they turned their horses’ heads towards home. 

On reaching the grounds Tricksy, in breathless 
excitement, opened the gate to admit them. 

“Hello Tricksy, what’s the matter?” inquired 
the master, “your eyes look like new moons.” 

“Oh, Mars Ethan, Miss Margoleen done went 
and gone, and none of we’uns can’t find her no 
whare tall. A ghost done tuck her off I know, 
boo-hoo-hod,” add the kind-hearted little negro 
cried aloud in her distress. 


Margoleen. 


53 


“Come Tricksy, what do you mean? Margo- 
leen is in the house most assuredly.” 

“No, indeed, Mars Ethan, she ain’t nuther, 
case I’se looked for her every whar. ” 

“Where did you last see her?” 

“I left her in her room. She sent me arter a 
pitcher of fresh water, and when I corned back, 
why, she was gone,” and again she broke out 
crying. 

By this time Mrs. Moorleigh, and Phil too, 
met them with the sad intelligence of Margoleen’s 
disappearance. 

Assisting the ladies from the sleigh, Ethan 
next hurried to the room of Margoleen to see if 
he could there find any clue to her mysterious 
flight. No trace was here visible, except the 
carpet was wrinkled as evidence of a struggle, 
and the pink ribbon w T hich had confined her 
curls lay upon the floor, but upon further exami- 
nation he discovered that a one horse cart had 
been driven from the side entrance, a passage 
seldom frequented by the family. So buckling 
a pair of pistols, which were well loaded, around 
his waist, and mounting a fresh steed, his brow 
clouded with vengeance, he took the trail, which, 
as he suspected, led down to their neighboring 
city, thence to a stable evidently kept by a low 
class of Irish, of whom he inquired, “Will you 


54 


MARGOLEEN. 


tell me who it is that has just driven a one-horse 
vehicle here?” 

“No, sir, we don’t know his name, but a gen- 
tleman in nate attire but a short time since 
returned our horse and cart, which several hours 
previous he had hired to a portly lady. ’ ’ 

“Did you not learn their names, or where they 
reside?” questioned Ethan. 

“Not a bate of it sir, they paid us for the use 
of our wagon, and this was all we demanded, 
and would you wish the hire of a turnout sir? 
We have a dun mule that is truly fresh, since he 
has not been on the road now for these three 
days. Shall we hook him up for you? Your 
nag seems fagged. ’ ’ 

“No, I want no accommodations, only to be 
told where to find the Lowland Inn.” 

“To be sure, and it’s away down in the 
marshes, and be dad, sich a gentleman as ye 
self would not be after lodging at sech quar- 
thers. ’ ’ 

“Be that as it may, will you be so kind as to 
give me the No. and street upon which I’m to 
find the Lowland Inn?” 

“Here is the man to infarm ye,” said a young 
muscular Irishman, who had hitherto sat in the 
background, but who now pushed his way 
through the crowd of loafers, and coming to the 


margoleen. 


55 


front continued, “And ’tis the Lowland Inn ye 
are asking about, eh?” 

“Yes sir,” answered Ethan. 

“Holy Moses, and ’tis the sweetest place on 
airth to me since me Biddie lives there, whose 
smile is sufficient to make me so happy that I 
niver care to see the back of me nake again, and 
with the promise that ye’ll not be after casting 
the shapes eye at me fair one, I’ll direct you the 
way se-ir. ’ ’ 

“Trust me, Pat, I’ll not stand in your way,” 
he answered with a smile. 

“And how did ye know me name was Pat?” 

“Oh, I guessed it,” he answered, this time 
impatiently. 

“Well sir, you will find the Lowland Inn 
down the mashes, on Eighth street, but as ye 
be sech a good hand at guessing, I’ll give you a 
little of it to do by leaving you to guess the 
number of the house yerself.” 

Ethan rode on, thinking that as he had learned 
the street he could perhaps find the house, when 
Irishman number one called to him that the 
house was numbered 170. 

“Thank you,” he shouted back, and touching 
his horse with his spur, rode rapidly on, but by 
the time he reached the designated spot it was 
quite late, nevertheless he could discern the 


56 


-MARGOLEEN. 


name, Lowland Inn, embossed in large gilt 
letters over the door, at which he loudly knocked. 

A tall, rosy-cheeked girl, with heavy Irish 
tongue, made her appearance, and on being asked 
if Dinah Hicks lived there, answered that she 
had moved from there some ten days since, and 
that she and her mother were now the proprietors 
of the Inn. “Would ye wish lodging sir?” she 
inquired. 

“No, not to-day, my good girl.” 

Accordingly she started to close him out, when 
realizing that he must fall upon some plan to 
detain her until he could glean some information 
respecting the whereabouts of the people he was 
seeking, and whom he suspected of having kid- 
napped Margoleen, he said to her, “Biddie, I 
saw your lover, Pat, a while ago.” 

“Indade sir,” she answered, and a smile lit 
up her face. 

“I certainly did, and he told me that 3^our 
smile was sufficient to make him supremely 
happy.” 

“To be sure and Patrick is not the one to for- 
get. Ah, sir, he ever remimbers his Biddie, and 
may the blessed Virgin kape him from harm.” 

“He is a handsome fellow, Biddie, and I must 
compliment your taste, as well as his, in the 
selection of a sweetheart. ’ ’ 


MARGOLEEN. 


57 


“Thank you sir, indade. ” 

Seeing that he had about paved the way to 
enlist her confidence, he said, “Biddie can’t you 
tell me where Dinah Hicks now lives?” 

“Well I can’t say exactly sir, but that you 
will find them somewhere on the third square 
below here I am sure, and I learned that they 
have set up another boarding-house.” 

“Thank you, Biddie,” and raising his hat he 
bowed politely and took his departure, while she 
went in and turned the key in the door after her. 
Feeling that it would be useless to hunt farther 
in the night, he went back home, but returned 
to the city very early the next morning and dili- 
gently resumed his search. 

On and on he strode until reaching the most 
ancient portion of the city, where frequent con- 
flagrations had made havoc with the combustible 
buildings, and where a fog equal to the Tondon 
veil continually frowned upon the marshy shores 
of the river. 

Closely he viewed each passing individual, 
and allowed his eager gaze to rest upon every 
house and signboard, until looking up at the 
third story window of a dilapidated house, he 
discovered the tear-stained face of his ward, who 
screamed as her eyes met his, “Oh, Mr. Tewis, 
here I am.” Instantly Dinah, for indeed it was 


58 


MARGOLEEN. 


she, clapped her rough red hand over the child’s 
mouth, and rudely snatched her from the window. 


CHAPTER X. 

Springing up the steps to the main entrance, 
he pounded with unnatural strength upon the 
door, until the lock dropped from its long inhab- 
ited casing, leaving the rusty hinges to swing 
the shutter idly to and fro, while he bounded up 
the rickety stairs and gained the third story in 
time to arrest Dinah, whose egress was deterred 
by the child grasping and holding on to the door 
facing through which she had to pass in order 
to make her escape. With brawling threats and 
occasional blows, she endeavored to unclinch the 
fingers, but the poor little thing, as if her very 
life depended on the detention of that moment, 
clung resistently until her guardian came to her 
rescue. 

“Hands off, fiend,’’ he cried, with indignant 
fire shooting from his eyes, and throwing an arm 
of protection around the trembling form of his 
ward, he exclaimed, “this belongs to me, and I 
have a mind to deal with you as justice demands 
for your cruelty, only that you are a woman do 
I refrain from knocking you down; upon this 
plea do I let you go this time, but mark my 


MARGOLEEN. 


59 


words, if ever you in any way again meddle 
with her, remember it will be at your peril. I 
would not be content to punish you to the extent 
of the law, but verily believe that with my own 
hands I would crush you into the earth.” 

Sullenly the vile perpetrator left the scene of 
action, and the child nervously clung to Ethan, 
as he carried her down, hailed a cab, tied his 
own horse to the rear, and set out for Cuthbert, 
while she explained how, when Tricksy had left 
her alone, Dinah stole in, tied a handkerchief 
over her mouth, and dragging her to the side 
entrance carried her off. 

“Never mind, little one, she will not be likely 
to trouble you any more. * ’ 

“Am I really to live at Cuthbert all the time?” 
(as if to be reassured of her good fortune) she 
asked. 

“Yes, if you want to, but I have made arrange- 
ments for you to go away to school. How would 
you like that?” 

“To go to school, learn books, and be a fine 
lady like Miss Belle?” 

“To be sure,” he answered, with an amused 
smile. “How would you like to learn music, 
Margoleen?” 

“To sing, and play like Miss Belle, too?” 


60 


MARGOLEEN. 


“Of course, don’t you think you could learn 
to sing and play like her?” 

“Oh, that would be so nice,” said she, as her 
face lit up with pleasure, and her past sorrow 
was for the time forgotten. “Can I go to-mor- 
row?’’ she asked in her enthusiasm. 

“Oh, no, you must get over your lameness, 
and besides I must have you some new clothes 
made, and get you a large trunk to carry them 
in, before you go.” 

“But you’ve done bought me some new 
clothes. I’ve three new dresses besides this,” 
she said, looking down at her frock, “and Mrs. 
Moorleigh is making me another one. I’m sure 
I can’t wear any more.” 

“You need several to go from home to remain 
ten months.” 

“Ten months,” she exclaimed, “and won’t I 
see you no more for ten months?” 

“Perhaps not for a longer term than this, as I 
contemplate traveling in the Western countries, 
but you may come home at the close of the ses- 
sion, and my mother will perhaps visit you dur- 
ing the time.” 

“Oh, I want to go to school, but do hate to 
leave Cuthbert, and I know I shall want to see 
you. Tears gathered in her eyes; abruptly he 
dropped the subject, and said: “Miss Belle is 


MARGOLEEN. 


61 


going to leave us to-morrow, Margoleen, what 
do you think of this?” 

“Where is she going?” she inquired. 

“She and the other young ladies are going 
home. Will you be sorry to see them leave?” 

“I don’t want any of them to go, but that big 
cliff woman, I don’t like her.” 

“You should not speak disrespectfully of Miss 
Clifton, Margoleen, but why do you dislike her?” 

“ ’Cause she’s mean.” 

“What makes you say she is mean?” 

“ ’Cause she laughed at me one day when I 
fell down, and she wouldn’t hand me my crutch, 
that flew away, and when she meets me in the 
hall she turns her nose up, like I didn’t smell 
good, Do you like her, Mr. Dewis?” she ques- 
tioned him. 

“Oh, yes,” he replied, turning his face from 
her, that she might not read the reverse. “I 
don’t want you to dislike her; you should school 
yourself to like everybody.” 

“Well, I would like to know how I can do it. 

I hate Dinah, and I hate the old Cliff woman, 
too; yes I do, and I am glad she is going away, 
for she frowns at me every time I go where you 
are. ’ ’ 

“Well, let us not talk any more about liei, 
now.” 


62 


MARGOLEEN. 


“Oh, ain’t this a sweet place,” she said, as he 
now drew rein at his home, and handed her out 
to Phil, who cautiously carried her in, while the 
delighted Tricksy ran in front of him shouting 
the glad tidings of her return. Mrs. Lewis was 
enough interested to order clean clothes put 
upon her, and a nourishing repast served for 
her especial benefit, and the young ladies, ex- 
cept the heiress, who chanced to be quite busy 
packing for her departure just then, came in to 
congratulate the little wanderer upon her return 
home. 

When evening came on, and the house was 
settled into its usual quiet, Mrs. Lewis sent for 
her son to come to her room as she wished to 
talk with him privately. Accordingly, he made 
his appearance, and drawing her chair close to 
his, she began the conversation, as follows: 

“Well, Ethan, our visitors are to leave us to- 
morrow, and I am sure I shall miss them sadly, 
for I have enjoyed their stay, I assure you. 
Plow do you like them, sou?” 

“Oh, very much, mother; more especially, 
Miss Seaton.” 

“Why, Ethan, you will certainly admit that 
Miss Clifton eclipses Miss Seaton in every respect. 

Indeed, no; I think Miss Seaton is eertainly 
her superior in my opinion % and by the way, 


MARGOLEEN. 


63 


mother, how would you like Miss Belle for your 
daughter-in-law ?’ ’ 

“Nonsense!” she exclaimed as she stamped 
her foot, and an angry flush dyed her cheek, “I 
would never consent to such absurd folly.” 

“I should not term it folly to marry as deserv- 
ing a girl as Belle Seaton. I am sure she would 
make some man a good wife, and I think a great 
deal of her,” he concluded, with a grimace. 

“But not so much that you would be silly 
enough to marry her.” 

“Well, I am not so sure about that; I must 
take a little time to think about the matter. 
You seem so very anxious that I should marry, 
I would like to make up my mind to gratify 
your wishes, but repeat that I must have time 
to consider the matter, for really, mother, it 
does seem to me that people who marry should 
fully realize that their hearts are in unison be- 
fore pledging themselves to each other, for mar- 
rying is a life-time business, and the right to 
call a woman wife seems a sacred trust to me, 
therefore, I feel that I must be more certain of 
my footing before making the uncertain leap 
into matrimony.” 

“My son, I have sent for you to ask you to 
make me one promise.” 

“What is it, mother?” 


MARGOLEEN. 


64 


“Will you try to love Blanche Clifton, for my 
sake.” 

“If it will make you any happier, I will prom- 
ise to try, but to be candid with you I don’t 
think I could ever love, or even admire a woman 
of her disposition.” 

“You will see them to the city in the morn- 
ing, I suppose ?” 

“Oh, yes.” 

The next morning, after taking leave of Mrs. 
Moorleigh, Margoleen and the servants, the 
Misses Lindsey, Belle Seaton and Mrs. Lewis 
were driven, by Phil, down to the city to catch 
the early train, while Ethan, according to his 
mother’s suggestion, drove Miss Cliiton in a 
separate buggy. 


CHAPTER XI. 

During their ride to the station, Miss Clifton 
felt that now was the time to make the most 
lasting impression upon the mind of the gentle- 
man who sat by her side, looking quite hand- 
some in his fur cap and deep collar of like ma- 
terial, hence she exerted herself to entertain 
him. 

“Oh, Mr. Lewis, I do think Cuthbert the 
sweetest place I’ve ever visited,” she ex > claimed v 


MARGOLEEN. 


65 


“and I am sure you ought to be proud that you 
are the master of this lovely home.” 

“Indeed, I am, Miss Blanche, for besides the 
knowledge of its grandeur, the fact that it was 
the home of my ancestors naturally endears it to 
me.” 

“The woman who is so fortunate as to call 
its master husband, should feel that fate had 
dealt a full share of happiness to her,” she con- 
tinued. 

“I trust that if I am ever blessed with a wife, 
she may be of the opinion you express, at least.” 

“Won’t you promise to invite me to your 
wedding, Mr. Lewis? Dogs like to at least eat 
the crumbs from the table of their betters.” 

Catching on to her ill-expressed idea, he evaded 
her meaning by checking his horse, consulting 
his watch, and saying, “Well here we are at the 
station, and in due time.” 

He threw back the buggy top and stepped 
out, while she braced herself against the back 
of the buggy, as if loth to give up her seat, and 
repeated, “Will you invite me to your wedding, 
Mr. Lewis?” 

With a smile that bespoke his disgust, he 
answered, “Of course if I think of it, and if I 
don’t perhaps my mother will, and now shall I 
assist you to alight?” he continued, as he broke 


66 


MARGOLEEN. 


the wheels in a more convenient position, and 
proferred his hand to her. She suffered him to 
lift her out, and endeavored to talk upon other 
subjects, but that she was somewhat daunted by 
his uninterested manner was quite apparent. 

Mrs. Lewis, who with the other girls had pre- 
ceded them, sat waiting in the ladies room of 
the depot, until Hthau with Miss Clifton came 
in to fill up their number. Then going for their 
tickets he next came back, distributed the same, 
and seating himself in their midst informed them 
that it yet lacked twenty minutes of train time, 
which space was taken up by the girls expressing 
their delight with Cuthbert, promising their 
hostess a repeated visit in the near future, and 
insisting upon her making a visit to their homes. 

“Mr. Lewis, do bring your mother to see me,” 
urged Miss Clifton, “I am sure she would enjoy 
a visit to my Northern home, and I will take 
great pains to make her want to repeat it.” 

“Mother will have nothing to do but visit 
when Spring opens, and I trust she will avail 
herself of the opportunity, as I fear it will be 
lonely for her at home, since Margoleen will 
enter school, and I shall travel in the West for 
a time.” 

“You may count on me spending a good por- 
tion of my time with you, dear Blanche, since I 


MARGOLEEN. 


67 


have no intention of moping alone during his 
absence,” said his mother. 

“Well, do come, Mrs. Lewis, and if Mr. Lewis 
has not started on his travels bring him with 
you, if he will condescend to visit us people of 
the North.” And she gave him what she meant 
to be a persuasive look, but which was devoid 
of expression and faded from his mind like chaff 
before the wind. 

‘ ‘Young ladies, you must all come back again, ’ 9 
said he, addressing the crowd; then turning to 
Miss Clifton, he added, ‘‘Miss Blanche, I shall 
depend on you to keep my mother interested 
while I am abroad.” 

“I will do my best,” she answered, a little 
reassured by his request. 

‘‘And Miss Maud,” he continued, addressing 
Miss Lindsey, ‘‘you and Miss Emma must 
remember to invite me when you get mar- 
ried.” 

The shrill scream of the cars was now heard, 
and going straight to Miss Seaton, whom he had 
purposely left out of this parting conversation, 
and whose understanding was not so obtuse as 
to imagine herself the slighted one, he drew her 
arm through his and said, ‘‘Miss Belle, your 
friendship acknowledges my right, on this par- 
ticular occasion, to arm you to the car,” and 


68 


MARGOLEEN. 


without waiting her consent, he started with her, 
bidding the others follow. 

“Miss Belle,” he said, bending his head and 
speaking in an undertone, “you can’t imagine 
how I hate to see you leave us; your stay has 
indeed been a source of pleasure to me, and I 
trust you like us well enough to come back to 
see us sometimes; when I return from my ram- 
bles I want to make you a visit. ’ ’ 

“I will be glad to see you,” she answered, 
“and when you come, bring Margoleen with 
you.” 

“Thank you, and I want you to grant me the 
friendly privilege of calling you by your given 
name.” 

“Certainly, Mr. Lewis.” 

“You may say Ethan, if you like,” he replied. 

“No,” she said laughing, “I believe I prefer 
to say Mr. Lewis.” 

“Just so you remember me as your true friend, 
and will promise to answer an occasional letter 
I may write you,” he concluded. 

“I will,” she said. 

“All aboard,” shouted the conductor, and as 
the engine stood hissing impatiently, Mrs. Lewis 
kissed her visitors good-bye and was left stand’ 
ing upon the platform, while her son went with 
them into the car, found comfortable seats, shook 


MARGOLEEN. 


69 


the hand of each, and regained his mother’s 
side in time to lift his cap while she waved her 
handkerchief at the moving train, that soon 
carried them from sight. Then turning to his 
mother, he said, “I have sent Phil around to the 
store to get a trunk, which I purchased a few 
days since for Margoleen, and as I wish her to 
be ready for school as soon as spring opens and 
she is able to start, I w r ould like for you to select 
her wardrobe and engage a seamstress while w r e 
are here.” 

He gave her a check for $100.00, and while 
she did the shopping, he, after visiting the 
barber shop, purchased some cigars, went across 
to the hotel on the opposite side of the street, 
and joined with some young men of his acquaint- 
ance in a social smoke, where they discussed the 
topics of the day, and rivaled in telling jokes, 
until the city clock reminded him that the ap- 
pointed time for him to drive to a certain store 
for his mother had arrived. So he at once had 
his horse brought round, directed Phil, who had 
returned with the trunk and w r as now in waiting, 
to follow on, and soon they found his mother, 
who with seamstress equipped to return with 
them, stood, each loaded with numerous boxes 
and bundles, which were soon stored away in 
the carriage driven by Phil; then putting his 


70 


MARGOLEEN. 


mother and the seamstress, whom his mother 
introduced as Miss Yankton, into the buggy 
that had been occupied by the heiress and him- 
self on their way down, he directed them to drive 
ahead of himself and Phil, who together rode 
among the goods and chatties. 

“You may give Wilks the reins, mother; he is 
quite gentle and will carry you safely. ’ ’ 

It was past dinner time when they reached 
home, but Mrs. Moorleigh had ordered their 
meal kept hot, and after a cup of coffee they felt 
refreshed. 

Mrs. I,ewis spent the remainder of the evening 
showing her purchases to Margoleen, and ex- 
plaining to Miss Yankton, who was a tall maiden 
lady of unquestionable age, and who wore an 
ample suppty of curls and frizzes, how she 
thought this new dress, and that new apron, and 
this sack, and that wrap would make up the 
most becoming. 

Miss Yankton kept her curls and frizzes 
in motion with bows of assent to her suggestions, 
whilst Margoleen looked on in bewilderment, 
and said, “they are mighty pretty, but I can’t 
wear ail these clothes, I’m sure.” 

“Remember that you will be introduced into 
the school as Mr. Lewis’ ward, and I trust, Mar- 
goleen, you will respect our standing enough to 


MARGOLEEN. 


71 


dress yourself in a style to meet the approbation 
of tasty people,” said Mrs. Lewis. 

‘‘Does Mr. Lewis want me to do nothing but 
dress?” she asked. 

‘‘Of course he expects you to learn your books, 
but I’m sure he, as well as myself, would be 
very much disappointed to learn that his ward 
was untidy, or old-fashioned in her dress. You 
will have plenty of clothes, and if you don’t 
dress as the occasions demand that you should, 
it will be your own fault, and contrary to my 
wishes, bear this in mind.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

Spring now endeavors to elude the grasp of 
winter, and myriads of birds chant the joyful 
message of her return. 

The song sparrow in the hedge, pouring out 
his soul in ecstatic thrills and quavers, is but a 
symbol of the deep joy felt by all created beings. 
The beautiful blue-bird, which Emerson calls 
‘‘April’s bird,” is now seen resting motionless 
on the lowest branch of a tree, with apparently 
nothing in the way of work or duty upon his 
mind. The smallest movement in the grass be- 
neath, however, attracts his attention, and his 
sure little beak rarely fails to seize the insect 


72 


MARGOLEEN. 


working mischief there. Not far off, perhaps, 
is seen his demure little spouse, similarly en- 
gaged, while the jolly, frolicsome black-bird, 
feeling duty bound to lend his aid in heralding 
the glad tidings of liberation from cold weather’s 
imprisonment, in his noisy crowd, without re- 
gard for the prim or proper, now rides the sway- 
ing branches of the loftiest trees, and pours forth 
his deafeniag strains. 

A flush of golden sunlight bathes old earth 
this morning, as Ethan Eewis enrolls his ward 
as a pupil of a female college of noted repute, 
and which was at a distance of more than tw r o 
hundred miles from his home. She is now suf- 
ficiently able to walk without the aid of her 
crutch, though her face is somewhat pale, which 
may be attributed to her tiresome journey. 

“Margoleen,” said her guardian, as he took 
her little white hand in his to say good-bye, 
“you must take a good rest before you enter the 
school-room, be obedient to your teachers and 
learn all you can, for I want to be proud of my 
little girl when I see her again; meanwhile, be 
careful of your health.” 

“I will,” said she, and tears filled her eyes, 
as she stood with her hands clasped over the top 
of her head, a favorite position with children; 
and w r atched him depart. 


MARGOLEEN. 


73 


The Superintendent walked with him to the 
college gate, listening to his instructions in re- 
gard to her education. 

“I am more concerned about her learning 
music,” than anything else,” said he, “as I am 
confident she has a musical talent, and I would 
have you be particular in regard to her health. 
I do not think her constitution would admit of 
any exposure, or neglect.” 

“Certainly, Mr. Lewis, you may rest assured 
that your ward shall have due attention.” 

“Here,” said Ethan, “I like to have forgotten 
to give you a little money. This,” he contin- 
ued, as he handed him several bills, “is to de- 
fray any little expense needful to her comfort, 
and now, sir,” was his last injunction, “I wish 
you to be gentle with her, as I am certain that 
she is not of a disposition to be ruled by harsh- 
ness. Kind reproof would be more efficient, I 
am sure,” and bowing gracefully, he stepped 
into the waiting hack and was driven to the 
railroad station in time to catch the train that 
was to carry him back to his home. On near- 
ing his grounds his ear was naturally turned to 
catch the sound of the happy, childish voice of 
his ward, who, with Tricksy at her heels, had 
made it a custom to meet him at the avenue 
gate, but, as this voice fails to greet him, a sin- 


74 


MARGOLE^N. 


gular loneliness steals over his heart as he re- 
members that she is gone. Leisurely he walks 
on to the house, and as his gaze rests upon the 
stately edifice, with its beautiful surroundings, 
he asks himself the question: “Why am I so 
much of a Robinson Crusoe that I can’t be satis- 
fied to remain here ? This lovely spot is dear to 
me, and yet, I am not content to stay upon it. 
I believe my mother was correct in presuming 
the society of young ladies to be a good remedy 
for my rambling propensities, for really, I am 
constrained to believe that I have been more 
content to remain at home since her visitors first 
came, than for five or more years previous. It 
now seems that their departure divests me of in- 
terest, and inclines me to resume my travel 
around the world. Yes, as soon as I can arrange 
business, I shall start.” 

His mother met him at the door, to say, 
“Hurry in, son; I want to read you a letter I 
have just received from dear Blanche, in which 
she gives me a pressing invitation to come as 
soon as I can make it convenient, and be certain 
to come prepared to spend the summer with her. 
What do you think about it, Ethan?” 

“I see nothing to prevent you accepting the 
invitation, mother. You so often express a desire 
to see the Pine Grove Mansion, of which its 


margoleen. 


75 


mistress loves so much to boast, I am sure you 
don’t mean to miss this opportunity.” 

“Well, son, I was just thinking it would be 
such a nice trip for you and I. ’Tis true I have 
left you here alone a great many times hereto- 
fore. but am sorry to have been so inconsiderate, 
and really would be delighted to have you accom- 
pany me.” 

“Ahem, yes, just so, but you certainly don’t 
mean that you want me to spend the summer at 
the house of Miss Clifton?” 

“No, if you don’t wish to remain under the 
same roof with your mother, you could at least 
stop near by, that I might have the pleasure of 
seeing you every day. * ’ 

“I am sorry, mother, that I cannot accede to 
your wishes, but having made up my mind to 
shape my business, as early as possible, prepara- 
tory to a trip to the West, renders it impossible 
for me to accept your proposition. However, I 
will see you to your destination; I do not like 
for you to travel alone. Then too, this would 
afford me an opportunity to see Miss Belle again. 
On my return I could stop over in her town, and 
perhaps spend a few days, which is a delightful 
idea to me I assure you. Excellent! Name the 
day, mother, and I will be ready to accompany 
you, and you can remain until you see fit to visit 


76 


MARGOLEEN. 


somewhere else, or come home and bring your 
chosen visitors to cheer you while I am ab- 
sent. ’ ’ 

“And how long do you contemplate staying 
abroad this time, Ethan,” she inquired, knowing 
that when he once made up his mind to do a 
thing, that he was as impregnable as stone. 

“I have no idea, but hope that you will enjoy 
yourself while I am away. I will write occa- 
sionally to keep you posted as to my where- 
abouts, so if you or my ward get sick you can 
summon me home. I trust mother that you and 
she will grow to love each other, and I leave it 
entirely to your discretion as to liow often she 
comes home during her educational term; how- 
ever, I would be glad for you to visit her as often 
as possible, as it would help to make her realize 
that she has friends.” 

.Somewhat piqued at his refusal of her request 
to remain for the summer, at least, in the neigh- 
borhood of her ideal daughter-in-law, and also 
annoyed at his persistent preference for Belle 
Seaton, she answered, “I will go to see her 
occasionally, as the world would censure me if 
I did not respect my son’s wishes to this extent, 
but you need not expect me to encumber inyself 
with this child of unknown origin,” and with an 
air of disdain she left his presence. 


MARGOLEEN. 


77 


However, in a few weeks from this time they' 
were en route to the home of the heiress, where 
he spent a day and night, then taking a final 
leave of his mother, whom he did not expect to 
see again for an indefinite time, he came by to 
see his friend, Miss Seaton, who made his stay 
so pleasant as to cause him to protract it for 
several days, and when at last he found it neces- 
sary to bid her good-bye, a pledge of eternal 
friendship was stamped upon their hearts. 

“Friendship is borne by holy zephyrs from the height, 
Where ever amaranthine bowers abide, 

And odorous sweets are scattered far and wide 
Whose perfume rare, celestial sense delights, 

Whose glowing hues no blazing sunshine blights; 

Comes earthward in our happy hearts tc hide, 

And into souls ail desolate to glide. 

An influence sweet that confidence invites, 

Like angel presence in some wilderness, 

Where footsteps faint tread hot the burning sands, 

Whose hands to parched lips the nectar press, 

It pours the balm each wounded heart demands, 

Speak benedictions, that the spirit bless, 

And lifts the fallen with its helpful hand.” — A. P. A. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

All things being now in readiness, Ethan starts 
on his travels of indefinable duration. Vaguely 
his mind launches out into the uncertain future, 



78 


MARGOLEEN. 


as on he goes in the vain search for real happi- 
ness. When I say vain search , I trust my reader 
will not deem me insensible to the blessings of 
earth, for, indeed, I believe that aside from the 
general harvest of bliss, that shall be gathered 
on the Celestial Plains, a few sheaves may be 
taken, even here, and should thankfully be 
waved in acknowledgment before the Lord. 

The character to whom this subject relates, 
realizing the constant tapping at the door of his 
heart to be a call for something responsive to his 
soul, traverses the plains of distant lands, hoping 
to find solace for his restless spirit, and thus we 
leave him in his delusion and go back for a time 
to the little waif for whom this story is named. 

“Margoleen, Margoleen,” shrieked an ireful 
voice, “you laggard, why do you not come down; 
breakfast is over, and the bell rang for study 
hour sometime since, and you have never left 
the dormitory, what do you mean?” 

And the red-haired school marm, with her 
bony hand (that was besprinkled with numerous 
freckles of unnatural size and color, also well 
skilled in the art of her design) gave the child 
a slap upon the cheek that would have felled her 
to the floor had not the friendly banister of the 
stairs supported her, and helped hqr to regain, 
her equilibrum. 


MARGOLEEN. 


79 


“I was sick last night, Miss Augusta.” 

“Never mind, I’ve learned how to treat you 
girls who feign sickness when you want to 
indulge in a morning nap. Go straight to the 
school-room. Another morning when you are 
up in time you can stop in the dining room.” 

“I don’t care for any breakfast.” 

“None of your sass, march right on without 
uttering another word.” 

With her cheeks tingling with pain and in- 
dignation, she turned from her oppressor and 
descended the stairs to find Prof. Williams, the 
Superintendent, standing in the hall through 
which she had to pass on her way to the school- 
room, who beholding her flushed face and tearful 
eyes asked what ailed her. 

“Professor,” she answered, “I have not been 
well for several days. I was awake until after 
the clock struck twelve last night, and over- 
slept myself this morning, consequently did not 
hear the bell,” here she burst into tears. 

“Well, well, come don’t cry any more, are you 
so sick as this?” 

“No sir, but I want to see Mr. L,ewis; I cannot 
stay here longer, and I know he will take me 
home when I tell him.” 

“Tell him what, Margoleen? Why do you 
not love to Stay here?” 


80 


MARGOLEEN. 


“Miss Augusta is so mean to me; she scolds 
me when I don’t deserve it, and she slapped me 
just now because I did not hear the bell to arise. 
Wont you write to Mr. Lewis, Professor, and tell 
him to come for me. I am sure he will take me 
home when he knows how unhappy I am here.” 

“Nevermind, Margoleen, I’ll see Miss Augusta 
about this; meantime I promise to give you a 
new teacher, whom I am confident you girls 
will love. My wife has concluded to take Miss 
Augusta’s place in the school-room, and I do not 
think you will have cause to complain of her.” 

“Oil, I am so glad,” she exclaimed, hastening 
on to confide the joyful news to the other girls, 
who were equalty delighted with the idea of the 
exchange. Next morning her face glowed with 
pleasure as she entered the school-room to find 
Mrs. Williams seated in the chair that had for- 
merly been occupied by Mrs. Augusta Vance, 
and who arose, and after a short prayer that 
touched the heart of all present, addressed them 
as follows: 

“Miss Vance having left our employ, I sup- 
pose girls, you all understand that I am here to 
fill her place as your teacher. By the happy 
expression of your faces I feel that I am approved. 
Let us all now strive to do our duty. Your 
parents and friends have sent yon t here to learn, 


MARGOLEEN. 


81 


and if you don’t make good use of your oppor- 
tunity, you will not only defraud them, but 
yourselves also. Then let us study when the 
hour demands it, and play with equal zeal at 
recreation. I hope to love you all, and trust 
that through a sense of duty to yourselves and 
love to your teacher you may be actuated to 
obedience. By obtaining an education, remem- 
ber girls, you not only fit yourselves for society, 
but you also place yourselves in a position to be 
self-sustaining; then I admonish you, be not 
slothful in so important a matter.” 

This little speech strengthened the admiration 
of the girls for their teacher and inspired them 
with courage. 

Margoleen, who had now apparently recovered 
from her previous indisposition, ventured to 
throw her arms around the neck of her new 
teacher and say in her impulsiveness, “Oh, Mrs. 
Williams, why have you not taught us before. 
I am sure I will love you very much, and will 
always try to obey you. ’ ’ 

‘‘Thank you, dear child, but it has never been 
in my power to teach since you came here. I 
used to assist my husband, but my health being 
rather delicate for some j^ears past, he has pro- 
hibited me entering upon the duties of the 
school-room. Now that I am restored to almost 


82 


MARGOLEEN. 


my normal standard of health, he consents for 
me to resume teaching, which is my favorite 
occupation.” 

The fact is the kind hearted Mrs. Williams 
had for some time been remonstrating with her 
husband in regard to this ill-natured woman, 
who by her fluent tongue beguiled him into 
employing her as a teacher, but her constant 
outbreaks of anger had not escaped the ear of 
his more amiable wife. 

“Take notice to the rigid discipline with which 
she controls the girls in her room,” she had 
remarked to her husband. 

After this he was upon several occasions re- 
minded of her words, and finally hearing her 
abuse to Margoleen, he discharged her, and 
consented for his wife to fill her place. From 
this time on Margoleen was under her super- 
vision, whose warm and sunny nature, bedewed 
with love and kindness, caused the young mind, 
which now like the tiny rose-bud, peeped from 
its verdueous hull to expand and blossom into a 
beautiful flower. 

Seven years had now passed since she entered 
this university, during which period she had 
never seen her guardian, but was occasionally 
allowed to read his letters, written to Professor 
Williams, in which he sent encouraging words 


MARGOLEEN. 


83 


to strengthen lier for the great work that lay 
before her. In one letter he had said, “Pro- 
fessor, tell my little ward that I am looking 
forward to seeing her an accomplished lady of 
noble purpose. ’ ’ 

These words were ever uppermost in her mind. 
She realized him to be her true benefactor, and 
determined to stem the tide of difficulties and 
plant the flag of success to his desires. 

Mrs. Lewis had annually visited her, each 
time replenishing her wardrobe to an extent that 
w T ould have tickled the vanity of the average 
school girl, yet the invitation to go home on a 
visit was never given. True it was only a few 
short months that she had remained at Cuth- 
bert, yet in this brief space of time she had 
learned to love it, and when vacation came 
round, and the other girls went to spend the 
summer months with their parents and friends, 
a homesickness crept over her that made her 
envy them the privilege. However, Mrs. Lewis 
always took leave without reference to her com- 
ing home, impressed the necessity of her improv- 
ing her time, adding that she thought it quite 
unnecessary that she should come home until 
she had completed her education. “I am from 
home a great deal,” she continued, “besides you 
will have advantages here, even during vaca- 


84 


MARGOLEEN. 


tipn, that you could not possibly have at Cuth- 
bert, therefore I prefer you remaining here until 
you graduate, and now that we are on the subject 
(she said on her last visit) I want you to be sure 
to find out what kind of dresses your class-mates 
will wear on the last day of school and write me 
in due time, for I intend to have one made for 
you that will eclipse them all in its splendor. I 
am proud to see that my son’s ward is growing 
to be quite pretty. ’ ’ 

And thus comforted, she left her the last time 
before the eventful occasion of her life. The 
great examination was to take place at the close 
of the present term, which was only a few months 
off, and diligently did our heroine work to acquit 
herself with honors. 

“I do not know that Mr. Lewis will be here 
on this occasion,” she soliloquized, “yet, I shall 
endeavor to deport myself in a way that he will 
approve when he hears from me. ’ ’ 

So intent was she upon her studies it was only 
a few days previous to the examination that she 
thought to comply with Mrs. Lewis’ request to 
write her concerning her graduating dress. I 
do not know that it really makes any difference 
about me having a new dress for the occasion. 
I already have several nice white dresses, and I 
believe the girls are to wear white Swiss, but as 


MAfcGOLEEN. 85 


Mrs. L,ewis requested it I suppose I must write. 
So slie forthwith dispatched the desired message. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Eike the pendulum of a huge clock towering 
o’er a vast city, swings a warm June sun, ready 
to drop behind the western horizon. The much 
dreaded examination having been in session for 
the past three days, is at last over, and to-night 
the concluding exercises (that will close the 
school days of a large class of young ladies) will 
take place. 

Margoleen Melbroke, whom we will designate 
a member of the above named, with pride and 
thankfulness looks at the gold medal that gleams 
upon her breast, bespeaking success and honor; 
yes, its appearance is acknowledged as signifi- 
cant of perfection in a thorough examination of 
her studies, and let us not brand her with vanity, 
but class her as only ordinary humanity, as she 
exults in the fact that she has not missed a word 
during this critical period. 

As her muse runs upon the events of the occa- 
sion, she seats herself by the window of her 
room, and looking out at the beautiful sunset, 
recounts them and soliloquizes: “There is Nellie 
Dempsy’s mother, cried for very joy to know 


86 


MARGOLEEN. 


that her daughter could now go home and remain 
with her, and old Mr. Finch almost hugged 
Lizzie Givings and Ermine Stanley, his grand- 
daughters, to death as he said, ‘I have come this 
time to take my darlings home to stay.’ Oh, 
the happy reunion for all save me. It seems 
that there is none to care whether I come home, 
or what becomes of me. My guardian does not 
seem to remember me, and his mother too has 
failed to attend our examination. I did think 
she would come, if for no other purpose than to 
superintend my toilet.” 

At this juncture the door-bell rang vigorously, 
and turning her ear to catch the sound, she 
recognizes the voice of the visitor to be that of 
Mrs. Lewis requesting to be led to the room of 
her son’s ward, and as she ascended the stair the 
conversation between her and the usher was quite 
audible. 

“And you say Miss Melbroke stood a good 
examination?” she interrogated. 

‘‘Certainly ma’am,” was the reply. ‘‘No one 
here will be acquitted with higher honors; you 
should have attended the examination.” 

‘‘Yes, really, I intended to, but circumstances 
rendered it impossible. However I have traveled 
all night in order to be here to the exhibi- 
tion.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


87 


Margoleen arose and met her at the door with 
a kiss. 

“Oh, dear,” said the proud woman, as she 
surveyed the girl from head to foot, allowing her 
gaze to rest particularly upon the glittering 
medal on her bosom. “I am really proud of 
you, Margoleen; you get prettier every time I 
see you. With a little training you will be a 
star in society I am sure, and now tell me what 
part you have in the program for to-night?” 

“I have been busy preparing for the examina- 
tion, have given little thought to the exhibition, 
consequently have only the Valedictory assigned 
to me,” was the reply. 

“Your dress reached you all safe, did it 
not?” 

“Oh, yes, and I had forgotten to thank you 
for it.” 

“How did you like it, Margoleen?” 

“I never saw a more beautiful dress; really I 
feel that it is too elegant for me to wear.” 

“Have you never worn it?” 

“No ma’am.” 

“Why Margoleen, you should have worn it 
one day at least. You surely understand that I 
went to the expense to have it made for this 
occasion,” and the proud lady evinced her dis- 
pleasure. 


88 


MARGOLEEN. 


“Forgive me, Mrs. Lewis, I did not think you 
would care if I preferred to wear something else. 
My class-mates all wore dresses of less value. 
The blue dress you sent me some weeks ago I 
had never worn, so I chose this that I might 
dress similar to the other girls of my class. ’ ’ 

“If you don’t wear the new dress to-night, that 
cost me so much worry to get up, I shall feel 
quite hurt, as of course it will prove that you do 
not appreciate my trouble.” 

“Oh, certainly, dear Mrs. Lewis, I .shall wear 
it to-night. Indeed I appreciate your kindness, 
and now that you are here I am anxious that 
you should see how nicely it fits me. ’ ’ 

“Have you had any news from my son of late?” 
“No, ma’am, he never writes to me, yet I had 
hoped he would be here on this particular occa- 
sion. Will he not come?” 

“I suppose not, as he is yet from home, and I 
am entirely ignorant as to when he will return. 
However I received a letter from him about a 
month ago, asking me to be here at the exami- 
nation, ready to take you home and introduce 
you into society, but think it would be perhaps 
best for you to remain at Cuthbert until next 
winter, ‘that you may take a good rest,’ says he, 
‘before she makes her debut, then you can take 
her to Washington, or some other city, where 


MARGOLEEN. 


89 


under the banner of deceit and hypocrisy you 
may succeed in making her the belle of modern 
society.’ But, Oh, my, Margoleen, she laugh- 
ingly continued, as she arose to her feet, “you 
must learn to look over my son’s peculiarities; 
he would indeed set a nice fashion for young 
ladies to pattern after, and were it left entirely 
to him to control their actions, a quaint set would 
enter the ranks of fashion; however, we can talk 
this over when we get home. Remember I 
desire you to look your prettiest to-night, and 
now we will go down to the reception room; my 
friend, Miss Clifton, is there. She came with 
me. I suppose you remember her, don’t you, 
Margoleen?” 

“Quite well,” she answered, as the frowns and 
unkind remarks of the heiress came vividly before 
her mind. 

Together they went to the parlor, where Mrs. 
Williams was endeavoring to entertain the lady 
in question, and as they neared the door, unper- 
ceived by the occupants of the room, she heard 
her kind teacher eulogizing her as follows: 

“Margoleen is indeed a charge whom your 
friend may be proud to own; aside from her 
persevering, ambitious spirit, she is one of the 
most lovable girls I have ever known.” 

“Indeed,” said her companion, as she arose 


MARGOLEEtf. 


90 


from her chair and bowed stiffly to the subject 
of their conversation, in which Mrs. Williams 
was so eulogistic. 

That Margoleen’s beauty was acknowledged 
by Miss Clifton with envy was quite apparent. 
A few moments later supper was announced, and 
as Mrs. Williams led the way to the dining-room 
she said to her pupil, “My dear, I am glad your 
friends are here to help me rejoice over your 
triumph, for I am sure you have been most vic- 
torious.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Williams, I sincerely trust 
I may not cause you all to blush for me to- 
night.” 

The meal being over, the girls next repaired 
to their rooms and begun their toilet for the 
evening’s entertainment. Mrs. Lewis sent up a 
message to know if Margoleen wished her assist- 
ance. 

“No thank you,” was the answer she received, 
“you must be tired from your journey and should 
lie down and take a rest. Mrs. Williams has 
promised to help me.” 

So this good lady conducted Mrs. Lewis and 
her friend to a private room, where they could 
rest whilst she helped her favorite to dress. 

The folding doors between two large school- 
rooms were thrown open, making a spacious 


MARGOLEEN. 


91 


apartment capacitated to seat quite a large audi- 
ence. The stage was erected some three feet 
high, carpeted neatly, and beautifully decorated 
with flowers. The lamps being now lighted the 
people filed in and secured seats. 


CHAPTER XV. 

A large audience was now assembled, and 
although the crowd was so immense as to be 
uncomfortable, at the tap of the hand-bell the 
hum of voices was hushed to a quiet almost 
sufficient to hear a pin drop upon the floor, and 
Professor Williams stepped upon the rostrum to 
deliver the opening speech. 

His first remarks were given to welcoming 
parents and friends, then after kindly thanking 
them for their patronage, he next addressed his 
school as follows: 

“My dear pupils, as we all understand that 
this night disbands us for a time, perhaps some 
of us forever, I feel it my duty to say something 
to you on the subject of education, and as I think 
of nothing more adequate to the important topic 
than the much deserving lines of a writer, whose 
name I do not remember, I shall endeavor to 
give force to his remarks by repeating ‘that an 
education will provide you with moral as well 


92 MARGOLEEN. 


as intellectual wealth, habits that shall render 
solitude sweet, sickness endurable, and age ven- 
erable, principles and affections that shall make 
life beautiful, and death a messenger of peace,’ 
and while he continues to impress us with the 
importance of an education, he also admonishes 
us to beware of mistakes. ‘At the commence- 
ment of almost every important enterprise,’ says 
he, ‘there are incumbrances to be removed. In 
some occupations this is the most serious part of 
the labor. To drain the morass, to clear the 
stones from a flinty glebe, or to extirpate, root 
and branch, the great trees of the forest, is a 
heavier toil than to guide the plow, or sow the 
seed, or garner the harvest.’ So when we begin 
the great work of education, there may possibly 
be found, even in the fair area of the female 
mind, some weeds to be removed, some waste 
places to be renovated, ere the opening rose-bud 
can well meet the sunbeam, or the clustering 
grapes vigorously ripen. There are some mis- 
takes easily made, but which, if adhesive, are 
both troublesome and hurtful — for instance, I 
have heard young people say, or seen them con- 
duct themselves as if they thought, tjiat to forget 
was no fault. Now if you lose what was en- 
trusted to you to keep, whether it be a precept, 
a promise, or a coin, you commit an act of 


MARGOLEEN. 


unfaithfulness. The loss may be either your 
own, in the squandering of the fruits of knowl- 
edge, or that of others, who expected you to 
return their own with usury. Could not this 
have been prevented? Philosophy calls mem- 
ory, but fixed attention, cannot you, therefore, 
so fix your attention, so charge the retentive 
power to be watchful and faithful, as to preserve 
what is gravely given to the mind’s custody? 
If you can, there is blame in the forgetting what 
you are justly expected to remember. Consider 
it, then, as a fault, and acknowledge it as such. 
Never utter the phrase, ‘I have forgotten,’ with- 
out compunction, and a silent resolution to pre- 
vent, if possible, its recurrence. Memory is not 
an inert mass, but a gift to be cultivated. It 
holds the key of knowledge. Its pen writes the 
history of life, deeds, words, motives; by it scroll 
we shall be judged. Make a friend of memory. 
Commune with her, ere you sleep, of the doings 
of the past day. Deepen by her aid, what should 
be treasured for the future; axioms, principles, 
holy rules of conduct. Entrust to her guardian- 
ship those stores on which the mind is to feed 
in the winter of life, when the eye is dim, and 
the natural force abated. Yes, dear children, 
make a friend of memory. She will not forsake 
you at last. Hope folds her wing when the 


94 


MARGOLEEN. 


grave opens. Her anchor was only made for the 
water-floods of time. But memory goes through 
the eternal gates. On her record, an unchang- 
ing doom is predicted. Make a friend of mem- 
ory, for she is to live with us forever. Shall we 
still go on exploring mistakes, and seeking the 
way to avoid them? Some young people who 
would not assert that the negligence of habitual 
forgetfulness was venal, fall into a worse error 
of deeming it proper for parents to do much for 
them, and they little or nothing for parents. On 
what can this strange theory be founded ? Where 
is the justice of imposing new burdens on those 
who already sustain many, so often wearied for 
your sake; where is the gratitude? And if there 
is neither justice nor gratitude in the course, 
what have spirits so true and lovely as your 
own, to do with it? Ah, no, I am sure you will 
repel the thought of such selfishness. With the 
light of every new morning inquire, not how you 
can repay their care and guardianship, for that 
is never to be repaid, but how you can best 
evince your appreciation of the debt. It would 
please me, if, at the close of the week, ere we 
parted for the sweet Sabbath rest, you would 
whisper in my ear some new service that you 
had learned to render your parents. Then I 
should feel that your scholastic au4 Wl Ta,l fiaAtl- 


MARGOLEEN. 


95 


ing were advancing hand-in-hand, and be com- 
forted by the conviction that your hearts and 
minds were equally healthful and prosperous. 
Mistake third, that the common occupations of 
industry are vulgar, or that it is not quite lady- 
like to work with the hands. The hand is a 
very curious piece of mechanism. It was doubt- 
less intended by its Maker for active and ingen- 
ious purposes. A man of no mean attainments 
has said that ‘its structure might convince an 
infidel of the intricate wisdom of its architect. 
Look abroad and see what the hand of man has 
done on the earth, in its depths, and upon the 
broad sea, where white-winged navies ride. Had 
it slumbered in supineness, where, where, would 
have been the prosperity of — 

The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, 

The solemn temples, the great globe itself. 

Woman’s hand too, in its own quiet way, has 
wrought something for the world’s welfare. 
Why should you withdraw yours from contribut- 
ing its part in any fitting form of industrious 
occupation? Of Miss Edgeworth it was said by 
a familiar friend, ‘that she could do skillfully 
with her hands everything that a woman ought 
to know how to do.’ This versatility of knowl- 
edge and aptness for useful employment are 


96 


MARGOLEEN. 


peculiarly appropriate to the simplicity that 
should prevail in a republic. Those are deceived 
in the character of a true lady who suppose it 
comprises helplessness, or ignorance of whatever 
her sex ought to understand and perform. Be- 
lieve me inertness is not laudible, nor indolence 
graceful. Were it necessary, I could fortify the 
assertion by numerous examples from history, as 
well as personal observation. But I will not do 
you the injustice to suppose it possible for any 
of you to belong to that class of cyphers in the 
scale of being, whom an ancient and homely 
epitaph thus characterizes: 

Then if their tombstones, when they die, 

Arn’t taught to flatter and to lie, 

There’s nothing more that can be said 
Than that they ate up all their bread, 

Drank up their drink, and gone to bed. 

Woman’s mission on earth is not one of sloth 
and selfishness. It is alike her duty, her policy, 
and her happiness, to abandon weak indulgence, 
empty display, and inglorious ease. A poet 
truly says: 

There is a fire fly in the Southern clime 
That shineth only when upon the wing; 

So it is with our mind, if once we rest, 

We darken. 

Clear away rubbish of false opinions, lest it end 
in wrong habits, make fair sea- room, that we 


MARGOLEEN. 


97 


may sail together with a right reckoning, steer- 
ing safe from shoals and quicksands, and so, 
through redeeming Mercy, find it at last the 
haven of perfect rest. ’ ’ 

Consulting his watch, he continued, “I have 
spoken longer than I intended, but hope I have 
not wearied my hearers.” 

There was a unanimous cheer as he stepped 
down to give place for the dialogues, essays, 
select readings, etc., which followed in suit, until 
at last Miss Melbroke was called forward to 
deliver the Valedictory. A 11 eyes eagerly watched 
for her who had not yet graced the stage. Pres- 
ently a white shapely hand, devoid of ring, 
pushed back the curtain, and a vision of beauty 
came forth whom we recognize to be our he- 
roine. 

Softly she advanced near the front of the stage 
and bowed timidly, though gracefully, to the 
audience, who were spell-bound by her loveli- 
ness. Masses of gold brown hair, curling softly, 
was brushed back from her temples, whose white 
transparent skin was veined delicately like the 
petals of a rose; her features were faultless in 
their chiseled regularity, and her great violet 
eyes shone like luminous stars beneath their long 
dark lashes. Her white thule dress, looped with 
wreaths of jessamine, clung gracefully to her 


98 


MARGOLEEN. 


perfect form. Such a serene maidenly figure it 
was, a pure personification of girlishness. 

Mrs. Lewis, who with her friend sat near the 
front, could not repress her admiration, but in- 
voluntarily exclaimed, “Oh, Blanche, is she not 
lovely indeed?” 

Whereupon Miss Clifton answered with a 
sneer, “Look, look, will you? I verily believe 
she is going to spoil all this loveliness by making 
a complete failure. It seems that she hasn’t the 
power to open that beautiful mouth, poor thing. 
Do look, ha, ha (rather low).” 

True enough Margoleen had dropped her eyes 
to the floor, while a deep blush dyed her cheek; 
however, it was only momentary. With a mighty 
effort she raised her head, and looking out upon 
the sea of faces before her, she caught the eye of 
a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman, who, appar- 
ently unable to find a seat, stood amid the throng 
in the back of the house, swinging a white straw 
hat, that was encircled with a wide black band, 
in his hand. One gleam from his compassionate 
eye lent inspiration, since she recognized him to 
be no other than her true benefactor, and thus 
strengthened she parted her lips, and with mod- 
ulated voice and perfect elocution, delivered the 
farewell address, which was followed by unani- 
mous applause and bouquets showered at her 


MARGOLEEN. 


99 


feet, which so elated her guardian that (to the 
astonishment of his mother and Miss Clifton, 
whom he had not as yet seen, and who believed 
him in some remote corner of the Eastern Con- 
tinent) he pushed his way through the crowded 
aisle, stepped upon the stage, gathered up the 
flowers that Margoleen had in her confusion for- 
gotten, and with a bow of assent from Professor 
Williams, lifted the curtain and passed under. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

In hurried pursuit he walked down the corri- 
dor, at the back of the stage, until coming upon 
a group of chattering girls, both large and small, 
he stopped and viewed them sufficiently to ascer- 
tain that the object of his search was not in their, 
midst, then asked if they could tell him where 
he could find Miss Melbroke. 

“She’s there in the back school-room,” said a 
curly-haired little girl, pointing to a door that 
stood ajar further down the hallway. 

On gaining its treshold, he hastily glanced 
around the room without discovering Margoleen, 
its only occupant, and had turned to retreat 
when some mysterious influence caused him to 
look back and espy her seated by the open win- 
dow, her arm resting upon its sill, vigorously 


100 


[MARGOLEEN. 


plying a large palmetto fan, for it was indeed an 
excessively warm night. She had sought privacy 
here in order to hide her burning cheek, that so 
plainly portrayed unusual emotion, and was 
upbraiding herself for having allowed timidity 
to so overpower her as to disappoint him whom 
she had earnestly labored to please. In her 
innocence she did not realize that her modesty 
had lent an additional charm to her delivery, for 
its reality was plainly stamped upon her features, 
but with deep remorse she remembered that when 
she first walked upon the stage her embarrass- 
ment was so great as to prevent her uttering a 
word for several minutes. 

“How very silly I must have looked,” she 
mused, and heeded not the solicitations to reap- 
pear, feeling that the clapping of hands was 
perhaps more of ridicule than applause. 

Unconscious of her guardian’s presence, she 
looked out upon the moon, “that regal queen of 
night,” and watching her career amid her glit- 
tering court, high in the arch of heaven, sadly 
and audibly ejaculated, “Have I been most for- 
tunate or unfortunate in this life?” 

M Uet us trust to the predominancy of your 
good fortune,” said a well remembered voice, 
and proffering his disengaged hand, continued, 
‘‘Well, now, am I expected to shower congratu- 


MARGOLEEN. 


101 


lations upon you, as the people so lavishly did 
these flowers which you unappreciatively walked 
over? Margie do you know me?” 

“Certainly, it is Mr. Lewis,” she answered 
smiling, as he shook her hand and detected, 
though she smiled, teardrops glittering upon her 
long dark lashes. 

“I am so very sorry to have made the failure,” 
she said, as her eyes sought the floor. 

“Oh, you did as well as I expected, quite as 
well, I assure you. Are these flowers not tokens 
of approval?” 

“I suppose so, but were they really meant for 
me?” 

“Most assuredly they were, so relieve me of 
them please.” 

“Yes sir, I will take them to my room and 
put them in water; you will excuse me until I 
do so?” 

“We will lay them here on this bench; they 
wont spoil until we talk a little,” said he, empty- 
ing an armful of bouquets, and seating himself 
upon the bench beside her. 

“Well, Margoleen, will you be glad to go 
home?” 

“Yes sir, if you mean Cuthbert, I shall be 
most happy to be there once more, if only for a 
short time. I believe Tricksy would remember 


102 


MARGOLEEN. 


me, sir; and would like you to promise that if I 
am ever able to buy her you will sell her to me.” 

“Sell her to you? How much will you give 
me for her, Margoleen?” 

“Oh, I could not give you anything for her 
now, but when I have made some money of my 
own, I should like to buy her.” 

‘ ‘And how do you expect to make your money ?’ ’ 

“By teaching, of course, and now let me thank 
you w T ith my whole heart for your kindness to 
me, a poor outcast. Oh, Mr. Lewis, if you only 
knew how I wish it was in my power to remun- 
erate you.” 

“Well, indeed, I am afraid if I have to depend 
on your teaching I shan’t get half Tricksy’s 
value. ’ ’ 

“Why do you say this, sir? I am sure I have 
worked faithfully to qualify myself, and shall 
most certainly apply for a situation as soon as — 
as — as — ’ ’ 

“As what, Margoleen?” 

“As soon as I have seen Cuthbert and rested 
awhile.” 

“If you mean to teach school, I should judge 
you incompetent, therefore would not give my 
consent, ’ ’ said he, with a merry twinkle in his eye. 

“You may be deceived in me,” she argued; 
“true there is a great deal for me to learn, yet I 


Margoleen. 


103 


am compelled to make my living, and I know 
that I am capable of teaching any branch of 
study I should undertake. In addition to your 
other kind deeds, will you help me to procure a 
situation?” 

“Yes; with no bad luck, to-morrow morning 
I shall start with you to Cuthbert, and situate 
you there in your home, until some worthy man 
shall claim your hand in marriage. I shall not 
prevent you visiting, or spending a portion of 
your time in sight-seeing; the only way by which 
you can remunerate me is, never again to inti- 
mate that you are under obligation to me. I 
consider my oath to protect you, obligatory, yea 
most sacred. I want you to be as free and happy 
at Cuthbert as if it was inherited from your 
parents, and remember that I shall always be a 
father to you as nearly as lies within me. May 
your brow ever be as free from clouds of sorrow 
as it appears now, Margie, but should it ever be 
otherwise, you would greatly incur my displeas- 
ure by hesitating to come to me in your dis- 
tresses. ’ ’ 

“Thank you, my dear guardian, I feel that I 
am most fortunate in possessing so true a bene- 
factor, and shall endeavor to please you always. ” 

“Well, there is one request I wish to make of 
you, which I have formed an opinion, will be 


104 


MARGOLEEN. 


rather difficult for you to grant, and that is, to 
always respect my mother’s fastidious whims, or 
at least bear with them; she is my mother 
and — ’ ’ 

This sentence was left unfinished, as the con- 
versation was interrupted by the appearance of 
two ladies, whom we recognize as Mrs. Tewis, 
and her friend, Miss Clifton. 

“Oh, my dear son,” exclaimed the former, 
hurriedly advancing toward him, whilst the 
heiress slowly and gracefully came on. “Why 
on earth did you not write me that you would 
be here?” 

“Mother,” said he, meeting and kissing her, 
“I did not know that you were under this roof, 
since I made inquiry and was informed that you 
failed to come to the examination; however, I 
am truly glad to see you. Our circle fully 
formed, Margoleen, you, and myself, will have 
a happy reunion at old Cuthbert to-morrow.” 
And a ray of pleasure shone on his face. 

“Yes, son, and here is dear Blanche.” 

“Welcome back, stranger,” said the lady in 
question, proffering her hand. “I do not think 
you would have seen me at all, had your mother 
not called your attention to the fact that I stood 
in your midst; nevertheless I am glad to see 
you.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


iOB 


“I certainly was aware of your presence, Miss 
Blanche, and conscious of the fact that your time 
was to come next,” said he, accepting her out- 
stretched hand, ‘‘how have you enjoyed the 
exhibition?” 

‘‘Very much, but it grew very tiresome towards 
the last.” 

‘ ‘The last part was the most interesting to me,” 
said Mrs. Lewis. ‘‘I am charmed with Margo- 
leen’s success, and must kiss her by way of 
congratulation.” 

Going over to where the girl now stood by the 
window, she imprinted a kiss upon her cheek 
and whispered, ‘‘My darling, you made me so 
proud of you to-night, and your dress indeed 
becomes you. When we get home I shall have 
you several fashionable dresses made, and we 
will go to Washington, where you shall make 
your debut. Do you agree, son?” 

“Blanche thinks it would be nice for us to go 
North for the remainder of the summer; what 
think you of this?” 

“Yes I would like them to go home with me,” 
said the heiress. “My home would welcome 
your newly blown rose among the Pines; what 
say you, Mr. Lewis?” 

“Thanks for your kind invitation, but I think 
our little band would be happier to spend the 


margoleen. 


io6 


summer months in a quiet rest at home; however, 
I shall leave it to mother and Margoleen as to 
where they spend their time. I do not mean to 
be exacting, but as for myself I feel that my 
presence is needed at Cuthbert, for a time, at 
least.” 

“Ethan has been from home so long I feel that 
I am compelled to remain at home with him this 
summer, but of course you too will stay with us, 
Blanche?” 

“Don’t you suppose that I am never in demand 
at home? My servants will get entirely from 
under my control, I am from home so much; 
yet, I find it impossible to refuse my dear friend. ’ ’ 

“Then you agree to go back to Cuthbert and 
remain for the summer with us? I should die 
without you, Blanche?” 

“Well as I don’t wish to be your murderess I 
must of course consent to accompany you back, 
though I came here with the intention of going 
back home.” 

“Margoleen, have you completed your packing 
preparatory to going home to-morrow?” 

“No sir, but I can do it to-night.” 

“Very well, but as it is now quite late you 
had best be at work; we will have to rise early 
in order to catch the morning train, so we will 
excuse you while we make ready to go over to 


MARGOLEEN. 


10? 


the hotel. Good-night,” he continued, “don’t 
sit up too long; I am sorry you can’t rest one 
day before we start, but I think it best to go to- 
morrow; I am quite anxious to see you all at 
home once more. I will come over for you early; 
don’t fail to be ready.” 

Bowing, she left the room, while Ethan es- 
corted his mother and Miss Clifton over to the 
hotel which stood near by, and after seeing 
them safely quartered, went to his room, threw 
himself into a chair, lit a cigar, and for more 
than an hour gave himself up to deep reflec- 
tion. 

“What have I lived for? for what was man 
created?” ran his musings. “In reality, is life 
but a bubble?” 

A retrospect of the past made his every act 
and thought seem tame and insipid in compari- 
son with the new sensation that thrilled him to- 
night. Memory evoked phantoms that caused 
him to weep over the sod where the blossoms 
fell early, and the poem came to his mind, 

“Oh, memory, why reproach me so, 

With shadows of the past, 

The thrilling hopes of long ago 
That came and went so fast?” 

His first ideal of woman had long years ago 
passed from earth to heaven. They were school- 


108 


MAkGOLEEN. 


mates, and in the rosebud of girlish loveliness, 
she had died without hearing from his lips a 
declaration of his love; yet, he had cherished 
her memory so much that he had never placed 
his affections upon another; in fact, nothing, 
until to-night, had ever awakened the long 
slumbering passion of his strong and noble man- 
hood. Margoleen Melbroke now enthroned 
herself in his heart. But, ah! he realized the 
discrepancy in their ages. “Could the young 
heart but twine its tendrils around a sturdy 
oak?” he soliloquized, “but no — get back, vain 
tempter, it would be folly to entertain such 
thought — she could not love a man who is old 
enough to be her father, and I would not be so 
ignoble as to taunt her with my affections. I 
pray only for power to crush or hide from her 
my true sentiment, that I may faithfully dis- 
charge my duty in the capacity assumed, as her 
protector. ’ ’ 

As he sits and ponders the above, let us look 
in upon Blanche Clifton, who, assured that her 
room mate was asleep, crept softly to the win- 
dow and looking out upon the starry heavens, 
that would have softened the heart of any good 
woman, grated her teeth, and planned the de- 
struction of Margoleen, whom she acknowledged 
to be her formidable rival. 


MARGOLEEN. 


109 


CHAPTER XVII. 

The following day dawned just as bright, the 
sun mounted the sky with equal pride and 
splendor, the people moved in the same routine 
adown the highway of life, as if a deep, dark 
plot had not been laid to wreck the lives of 
Ethan Lewis and Margoleen Melbroke. 

At four o’clock p. m., Mrs. Moorleigh, catch- 
ing the sound of carriage wheels upon the grav- 
eled drive, laid aside her knitting, arranged the 
chairs in the room, swept the hearth, and glanc- 
ing up at the clock, ejaculated, “if that be our 
party, Phil has made better time than I ex- 
pected!’’ Going to the door, she ascertained 
that indeed it was no other than the long-absent 
master, who, in company with three ladies, had 
arrived. 

Aunt Silvie, the negro cook, (who was ac- 
knowledged by the family to be a very import- 
ant personage) with her hands resting upon her 
hips and her pipe in her mouth, stood upon the 
kitchen doorstep complacently watching the 
blue-tailed pigeons soar over her head, then 
light down upon the chicken-trough, and with 
impertinence dip their bills into the water (which 
she had but a few moments previous poured out 
to her favorite biddies), when hearing the excla- 
mation boa! from Phil, she shielded her eyes 


110 


MARGOLEEN. 


from the sun with her hand, and looking down 
towards the front gate discovered her master 
hand not only two ladies from the carriage, but 
a third one. 

“Come here, Tricksy, honey,” she turned 
her head back towards the kitchen door and 
called, as Ethan led the way toward the house. 

“Aint dat ar ’oman walking next to Mars 
Ethan de same sorrel-top hypocrite as lef here 
wid missus?” 

“Yes, ma’am, that is surely Miss Blanche,” 
decided Tricksy.- 

“Lands sakes,” said the now disconcerted old 
woman, “what de name o’ common sense Miss Ira 
wanter fetch dat ’oman back here fur, God knows 
I* don’t -wanter cook for her; all de angels nor 
saints nuther couldn’t please her; besides, pears 
ter me, Miss Ira don’t need her here now, since 
Mars Ethan and de little miss done both corned, 
dat’s company nough sholy. I don’t like dat 
medley ’oman no ways, bound she turns dis 
house upside down fore she leaves here. I tell 
you, Tricksy, I don’t like her neuvering; dis old 
nigger aint lived alwaus for nuffin; jis listen ter 
what I tell you, chile, and you’ll see dis old 
’oman aint fooled ebry day.” 

And tossing her head with an air of confident 
wisdom, with lip pouched, and t!je disengaged 


MARGOLEEN. 


Ill 


corner of her white head-rag fluttering high in 
the warm summer breeze, she walked across the 
back yard to her cabin, where seated upon the 
ground, in front of the door, were several little 
negro boys, and in a voice that they well under- 
stood signified she was not in a very good humor, 
she said to them, “You ternal niggers what you 
mean setting thar playing in dat dirt; don’t you 
spose I never gits tired working, just look at 
dem shirts; git up from dar dis minute and fetch 
me plenty chips in de kitchen, dars more com- 
pany folks here for supper.” 

“Who’es here?” ventured one to say. 

“Neber you mind nigger, you go and do as 
you am told; childun got no business poking dey 
bills inter grown folks affairs;” (aside) “but ’tis 
downright certain I’se got one more than I wus 
inspecting to git supper fur, and one that I haint 
got no time for nuther.” 

However, when her master went out to the 
kitchen and shook hands with his old cook, in- 
quiring how each of her girls and boys were 
getting along, a happy smile once more illumined 
her sleek face, dispelling for the time her former 
annoyance. She loved her master, and when 
supper came on, she thought of no way that she 
could better express her appreciation of him than 
by placing a well cooked meal, composed of 


112 


MARGOLEEN. 


tilings she remembered to have been his favorite 
viands, nor did he fail to return the compliment 
by eating a hearty supper, and as he arose from 
the table, spoke in a tone loud enough to reach 
the ear of Aunt Silvie (for whom the compliment 
was intended), that he verily believed he had 
the best cook in the State, and that he feared if 
he stayed at home too long, he would kill himself 
eating; Aunt Silvie understood so well just what 
suited his taste. The old woman was amply 
repaid by this eulogy, and thought if all the rest 
of the household were as easily pleased as was 
her master, she would indeed be blessed. 

But let us go back to the ladies, who after 
having been ushered into the sitting room by 
Mrs. Moorleigh, were next shown to their respec- 
tive rooms, w T here they might divest themselves 
of their traveling apparel, and dress for supper. 
Miss Clifton was to occupy the room she had 
formerly chosen, which was a large chamber in 
the west wing of the house, immediately over 
the sitting-room, with two separate stairways, 
one leading down through the front hall, the 
other from a side passage, thence to a small nar- 
row porch on the side of the house next to the 
large dense orchard. Its walls were hung with 
dark green paper, festooned with golden tinsel. 
The carpet was of rich green velvet* -stamped, 


MARGOLEEN. 


113 


with large yellow poppies, whilst the tapestry 
that o’erhung the windows, and the other adorn- 
ing of the room, corresponded in color and 
elaborateness. This room was designated as the 
green room, and was held in reserve by Mrs. 
Lewis for her favorite lady visitors. vSo Miss 
Clifton, having been always an especial favorite, 
did not consider that she was usurping authority 
when she said, “I shall of course have the green 
room.” 

“Certainly, Blanche, Mrs. Moorleigh will see 
3 T ou up to your room while I show Margoleen to 
hers.” 

Our heroine was delighted to find Tricksy 
(who was now a tall, intelligent looking girl, 
seventeen years of age) standing in the door- 
way, ready as of old to serve her as maid. She 
carried her mistress’ wraps, or luggage, to the 
room that by her own faithful hands had been 
converted into almost a fairy bovrer. This 
apartment was on the same floor as was the 
green room, but on the opposite side of the hall, 
several doors nearer to the front stairway. The 
furniture was pretty, yet not gorgeous; bright, 
cheerful hangings were the adornments. The 
carpet was a light Brussels, stamped with deli- 
cate pink rose-buds, and leaves that contrasted 
beautifully with the light colored wall paper, 


114 


MARGOLEEN. 


whilst, reflected in the large mirrors of both 
dresser and washstand, were the beautiful and 
fragrant bouquets, which by her thoughtful 
maid had been gathered and placed thereon. 
The large bay-window that looked out upon the 
flower garden (beyond which stretched a large 
green meadow, where herds of fat cattle browsed 
the banks of the creek that gleamed in the sum- 
mer sunlight), was draped with cream colored 
lace curtains, looped back by bows of pink rib-, 
bon. 

“This is to be your room, exclusively ,” said 
Mrs. Lewis, “and remember, Margoleen, you 
are to feel that you are at home in my son’s 
house.” 

“Thank you,” and before she had time to say 
more, the lady of the house had closed the door 
and hurried on to see about her pet — Miss 
Clifton. 

It was now time for Tricksy to express her 
pleasure at seeing her beloved young mistress at 
home once more. In fact it had been most diffi- 
cult to control the tears of joy that now flowed 
freely down her cheeks, while kneeling, and 
caressing Margoleen around the ankles, she ex- 
pressed her happiness to see her once more. 

“Iam equally glad to see you, Tricksy, and 
believe you to be as true a friend as I have,” 


MARGOLEEN. 


115 


“I would do anything to serve you Miss 
Margoleen, and hope you will always take me 
with you, hereafter.” 

“As long as I can keep you with me, Tricksy, 
I shall certainly do so, as I feel that I can trust 
you. So now get up, wipe your eyes, and bring 
my trunk key from my hand-satchel; ’tis time I 
was ready to go down, as Mrs. Moorleigh said 
supper would be served early. ’ ’ 

Obeying her mistress, she brought the key, 
and thence had, not only the pleasure of watch- 
ing her lovely young mistress prepare her even- 
ing toilet, but her eyes danced with delight when 
drawing forth a bright blue ribbon sash, some 
three yards or more in length, and ten or twelve 
inches wide, Margoleen said, “here, Tricksy, is 
a present I have brought to you; wear it, and 
you will be certain to catch a sweetheart.” 

“O! how pretty, thank you; but indeed, Miss 
Margoleen, I already has a sweetheart.” 

“You have? Tricksy, ar’nt you young to 
have lost your heart ?” 

“Yes’m, I s’pose I is, but I’se got one and 
will tell you all about him some time; he’s 
named Jim.” 

“Jim,” repeated Margoleen, and the bell an- 
nounced supper. 

“Open the door, Tricksy, I shall now go 


116 


MARGOLEEN. 


down,” she said, as slie stroked her hair with 
the brush, and next descended the stair. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

“Who of you ladies are fond of horseback 
riding?” asked Ethan that night at the supper 
table. 

“I used to be, but have long since put by 
such foolishness,” his mother was first to make 
reply. 

“And you, Miss Blanche, how do you like it?” 

“For my part,” she answered with a slight 
sneer, “it requires too much physical strength 
for me ; besides it always looked vulgar to me 
to see a lady on the horse’s back ; give me a 
carriage instead.” 

“ ’Tis your turn, Margoleen; what have you 
to say on the subject? I ask, how do you like 
to ride horseback?” 

“As I don’t remember to have ever been on 
the back of a horse, I don’t suppose I’m really 
capable of expressing an opinion.” 

“Do you think you would like to learn to 
ride?” 

“I believe I would. I have seen ladies on 
horseback who I thought looked very nice- and 
I am sure they appeared to enjoy it.” 


MARGOLEEN. 117 


“Well, if you will be ready, and on the West 
balcony when the clock strikes four, to-morrow 
morning, I shall give you a first lesson in 
equestrianship; what say you?” 

“I would be delighted, but how shall I pre- 
pare? I have no habit. ” 

“I’ll tell you, Margoleen. send Tricksy to 
the garret, and there, hanging among my dis- 
carded dresses, she will find a blue habit I wore 
years ago; I expect it will just fit you.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Lewis; I shall go right now 
and send Tricksy to hunt it.” 

With face beaming with girlish delight, she 
asked to be excused, left the table, ran up to 
her room, summoned her maid and forthwith 
dispatched her for the desired article, which 
was soon found and brought to her. The heir- 
ess now felt vexed at having expressed herself 
as not liking to ride on horseback. “He might 
have intended to ask me to accompany him,” 
she mused, as Mrs. Lewis spoke of the pleasure 
Ethan’s suggestion had created in the young 
face, and while the subject of her remarks, with 
Tricksy’s assistance was busily engaged, brush- 
ing and shaking out the folds of the long neg- 
lected habit. 

“Look there in my hat-box, Tricksy; I have 
a cap that I think will correspond with this 


118 


MARGOLEEN. 


habit.” The little blue cap, trimmed with tin- 
sel cord, suited exactly. 

“Aint you going to try the habit on?” asked 
Tricksy. 

“Not now, I must first go down to the sitting- 
room, and when I come back will try it on, so 
if there be any alteration to make we can do it 
before we retire. ’ ’ 

However, as they had traveled some distance 
that day, bed-time was announced early. Mar- 
goleen was soon back in her room to hastily 
array herself and find that the habit was much 
too large in the waist for her. 

“What shall I do to it, Tricksy ?” she inquired, 
as she looked into her mirror and beheld the 
bagging costume. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, less you put 
it on wrong side out and let me kinder pinch it 
up wid my fingers and sew it inside de whale- 
bones.” 

Tricksy’s suggestions were acceded to and 
soon the costume was thrown across the back of 
the chair, ready for an early toilet the following 
morning, and the one who was to wear it, in bed 
dreaming of the eventful occasion. 

“Wake me early,” was her last injunction ere 
Morpheus received her in embrace. With heart 
unsullied with care she slept sweetly until Tricksy 


MARdOLEEN. 119 


gently shook her arm and said, “Miss Margo- 
leen, de roosteers am all crowing fur day, spec 
you had better get up if yer wanter ride.” 

She immediately sprang from her bed, has- 
tened to make ready, and at the appointed hour 
stood upon the balcony; nor did she have to wait 
long, for it was only a few seconds until her 
guardian, equipped for the ride, came out, and 
as he surveyed her, laughing said, “Good- 
morning, riding-habit, are you sure you contain 
Miss Melbroke?” 

A blush suffused her cheek at the intimation 
of her’s and Tricksy’s failure to make a fit, 
nevertheless she gathered courage to answer, 
“Tricksy and I did the best we could, you would 
not expect us to be Paris modistes, would you?” 

“Certainly not, forgive my charging remark, 
I am sure it looks quite well. Come, here are 
the horses, let us be off; lead them a little closer, 
Phil, there, that will do; up you go, Margie, am 
glad you are not so squeemish as to miss what I 
consider one of the greatest pleasures of life, a 
horse-back ride.” Handing her the bridle and 
whip, he continued, “Sit up straight, I think I 
can learn you to be a graceful rider; lead aside 
and hold him, Phil, until I can mount.” 

The beautiful dapple-gray, whose glossy coat 
signified a frequent application of curry-comb 


120 ; 


MARGOLEEN. 


and brush, was led aside while he mounted on 
the other horse, a spirited blood-bay, and gaining 
her side said, “I y et go his mane, Margoleen, take 
the reins in your left hand and whip in your 
right; you don’t feel afraid of him, do you?” 

“Not much.” 

“Well, here we go, mind you don’t fall off.” 
And tapping each horse with his own whip, they 
started at a moderate gait. 

The birds were still warbling their early songs. 
The sun was not yet above the eastern horizon, 
dewdrops glistened upon flower and leaf. The 
cool, invigorating air of the early morning con- 
trasted greatly with the heat of the later hours 
of the day. On and on they rode with increasing 
speed until our heroine began to feel quite at 
home in the saddle, when at length he said 
he expected they had best turn back, as 
breakfast would probably be ready by the time 
they reached home. On their way back he asked 
how she enjoyed her ride, and how she liked 
Dido (alluding to the animal she rode). 

“Very much indeed, and must thank you for 
this morning’s pleasure.” 

“You needn’t mind to do that,” said he, “but 
I am glad you are pleased with Dido, since I 
bought him for your especial benefit; he is yours, 
Margoleen; I make you a present of him.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


121 


A tear stood in her eye, and for a time she did 
not speak. “ ’Tis hard that I’m not allowed to 
thank you when my heart overflows with grati- 
tute,” she at length ejaculated; “I am more than 
proud of the gift. ’ ’ 

“Well prove it by being ready to repeat this 
ride at the same hour to-morrow morning.” 

Mrs. Lewis and her friend met them at the 
door to inquire how she liked to ride on horse- 
back. 

“I don’t think I ever enjoyed anything more 
in my life; and what do you think, my dear 
guardian says he bought Dido expressly for me; 
was there ever another as good man on earth? 
I want you, and Miss Blanche too, to try my 
horse, Mrs. Lewis, I’m sure you wall love to ride 
when you once try him.” 

And away she ran to her room, as Mrs. Lewis 
said, “Her cheeks are as red as roses, but that 
habit does look too funny. I would have sup- 
posed her to have been nearer my size and form 
than that; she must have a new one if she intends 
to ride.” 

Margoleen was too far to hear her remark, yet 
Ethan answered, “You suggest the thought, 
mother; suppose you order one for her at your 
earliest convenience.” 

“Very well, I think I shall go down to the 


122 MARGOLEEN. 


city to-day, anyway; would you like to accom- 
pany us, Blanche?” 

“Certainly.” 

“You, too, will go with us, won’t you, son?” 

“No, I’m slightly affected wdth headache this 
morning; Phil can drive you ladies down, and 
bring you back safely.” 

“Yes, well, have the carriage brought around 
early, as I wish to take Margoleen to several 
places; it will take quite all day to do my shop- 
ping; besides ’tis too warm to wait late to start.” 

“Promptly at eight the carriage will be at the 
door; inform Margoleen that she may be ready 
in time.” 

After breakfast Miss Clifton said to her hostess, 
“If you will excuse me, I believe I won’t go 
to-day as ’tis so warm, and I would like to answer 
some letters.” 

“I dislike to leave you behind, Blanche, I fear 
you will be lonely, besides we will miss the 
pleasure of your most excellent company; yet if 
you prefer to remain at home, I will excuse you 
with the promise that you have the servants wait 
upon you well and don’t have the blues so bad 
that you will be ready to cry homesick when I 
return; for you have promised, remember, to 
remain with me until next spring, and we may 
accomplish wonders in that time,” she whis- 


MARGOLEEN. 


123 


pered. “I know ’tis dull here for one who is 
accustomed to gay society as you are, but we are 
going to break the monotany pretty soon by hav- 
ing a lawn party, and ’tis in view of the occasion 
is one thing that carries me to the city to-day; 
Ethan is a poor hand to get up anything of the 
kind, and of course I shall have to call on you 
to help me; so get to work, think out the program 
for the evening; and I will bring my pet some- 
thing nice when I return.” 

The carriage moved off, leaving Ethan and 
Miss Clifton, who had accompanied them out. 
Together they walked back to the veranda, when 
the heiress dropped into a rustic chair and said, 
“ ’Tis so warm, I dislike to stay indoors. What 
have you to say about our lawn party, Mr. Eewis; 
do you think you would enjoy it?” 

Pushing a toad from the veranda step with the 
toe of his boot, and seating himself thereon, he 
answered, ‘‘As for myself I’m getting too old to 
enjoy such occasions much; yet I have been 
thinking of having an entertainment of some 
kind, and have at least the young folks of the 
vicinity to come in, that my ward, who is now a 
grown girl, may make their acquaintance; this 
is her home, and yet she is entirely ignorant of 
its surroundings. Could you not suggest some- 
thing that would best suit a girl of her taste and 


124 MARGOLEEN. 


accomplishments? Do you really think a lawn 
party would be appropriate; would the ladies not 
be liable to take cold out on the dewy grass; 
would it not be best to have the entertainment 
indoors?” 

Miss Clifton silently grated her teeth and an- 
swered, “You are not so very many years my 
senior, and I don’t consider that I’m too old to 
enjoy parties.” 

“We could not expect to class ourselves with 
her age, at least,” said he. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Hope was renewed by his answer, as it sug- 
gested the thought that he, perhaps after all, 
considered Margoleen only a child, and realized 
that the discrepancy in their ages would ill mate 
them as husband and wife. 

“Yes, a child such as Margoleen appears to 
be would, I suppose, naturally enjoy frivolity 
that would be void of pleasure to us; we will let 
Mrs. Lewis decide what kind of entertainment 
would best suit her, and you and I can sit by 
and watch the effect. But as a true friend to 
you and to your mother whom I love so dearly, 
I have a secret to confide to you, Mr. Lewis, one 
that concerns the honor of your family too.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


125 


“What on earth, what have you to tell, Miss 
Blanche?” 

“Well trust me that it is in consideration of 
your mother more than all else that I wish to 
open your eyes.” 

“Go on please, don’t keep me in suspense.” 

“Believe me as your friend, I know truly that 
you are harboring beneath j^our roof one who is 
of low birth; Margoleen Melbroke is of the scum 
of the earth.” 

“You are mistaken in this,” he answered with 
clouded brow, “I have good evidence to believe 
her parents were respectable people. Her father 
was lost in a shipwreck, and her poor mother, as 
Margoleen well remembers, died of grief for her 
husband, while on board a steamer. I would 
have no such insinuations reach the ears of my 
ward, for I am thoroughly convinced of its in- 
validity; therefore, beg you never to mention the 
subject again.” 

He now arose, and with hands thrust deep 
into his trowser pockets, was walking a measured 
tread across the porch floor, when at length he 
turned abruptly to go into the house. 

“Stay, Mr. Lewis, hear me through; I repeat 
that I know her to be most unworthy in more 
particulars than one, and some day will prove 
my statement clearly to you. ’ ’ 


126 


MARGOLEEN. 


“Enough, Miss Clifton, I decline to listen fur- 
ther; excuse me, please,” and going to his room 
he opened a newspaper, stretched himself upon 
a couch in front of the large open window, and 
endeavored to put this idle talk from his mind. 
He did not believe a word of it, yet the thought 
haunted and stung him deeply. 

“My precious — yes, I will say precious — Mar- 
goleen could never have descended from low, 
vulgar people. The thought of her being 
anything but purity, shall never be enter- 
tained.” 

And thus he mused until he finally dropped off 
to sleep, nor did he awake until the sound of the 
dinner bell aroused him. On entering the din- 
ing room he found his sole companion to be the 
heiress, seated at the head of the table fault- 
lessly arrayed in dinner costume, and as he took 
his seat vis-a-vis, she smilingly said, “you ap- 
peared out of humor when you left me this 
morning; see, I am at the head of your table, 
and as a treaty of peace between us, offer to 
serve your coffee; so, if you wish plenty of sugar, 
allege that we are still friends, I am sure I 
meant no offense (her hand on the sugar spoon). 

“I am not the one to treat my mother's com- 
pany with disrespect, Miss Clifton, but must 
say I will be grateful if you will sever ment.ios 


MARGOLEEN. 


127 


the subject of this morning again; would you 
have some of this roast?” 

‘‘If you please, sir.” 

Her plate was handed, by the servant, to him. 

‘‘What has become of Madam Moorleigh?” 
he questioned. 

‘‘ , She is in bed with headache,” was the reply. 

“I am sorry she is sick, and will go in to see 
her when I shall have finished eating.” 

The subject next drifted to Miss Belle Seaton 
and the Eindsey girls. 

‘‘When did you see or hear from Belle 
Seaton?” asked she. 

‘‘I came by her home on my return from the 
West, and I occasionally get a letter from her; I 
received one yesterday. ’ ’ 

‘‘Ah! and how is she?” 

‘‘Quite well and happy, she writes. 

‘‘She has never married, I presume?” 

‘‘No; but she tells me in her last letter that 
Miss Maud Iyindsey has just been married to 
quite a wealthy gentleman from the South, by 
the name of Headley — Frank Headley — I think 
is his name. He has a large plantation, a 
number of slaves, and deals extensively in cot- 
ton.” 

‘‘And Emma; what has become of her?” 

‘‘Oh, Miss Emma, so Miss Belle informed me, 


128 


MARGOLEEN. 


married a Mr. Brevere of Chicago, some four or 
five years since.” 

“And did she too, do well?” 

“I suppose she did; her husband is a whole- 
sale druggist of that city. But how is it that 
you are not posted about these ladies ? I pre- 
sumed when you all came here together visiting, 
that you were friends and acquaintances.” 

“No, no; I knew but little of those girls be- 
fore we met here, on my first visit. They never 
write to me; in fact, I have but few correspond- 
ents among the ladies, I can’t find time to write 
so much. The Lindsey girls I remember to 
have been very pretty and sweet, while Belle 
Seaton was neither pretty nor attractive; don’t 
you think she was rather ordinary?” 

“Indeed! I think her most extraordinary, 
and regard her as one of the most perfect ladies 
I have ever met.” 

“Ah!” 

“I certainly do,” and arising he continued, 
“excuse me, Miss Blanche, I must go see Mrs. 
Moorleigh.” 

On entering her room he found his house- 
keeper quite sick. She was advanced in years 
and had been accustomed to these spells of sick 
headache for a long time, though she had cause 
to hope she would be cured of them, a.s .she had. 


MARGOLEEN. 


129 


now escaped for a longer period than usual. 
“How long have you been sick, Mrs. Moor- 
leigh?” he questioned. 

“Since early this morning. ” 

“Did mother know of your illness before she 
left?” 

“I told her I had a headache, but I was not 
suffering so much when she left.” 

“I was somewhat complaining myself this 
morning, but feel all right now. I have a rem- 
edy in my room that will help you; shall I go 
for it, Mrs. Moorleigh?” 

“Anything you think will relieve me, I am 
willing to take. ” 

He went to his room and soon came back with 
a blue vial of what he called sick headache tab- 
lets, gave her one to swallow, and seating him- 
self by the window, waited the effect. In an 
hour he repeated the dose and his patient soon 
slept peacefully. When she awoke she said the 
pain in her head was gone. 

“You are a good doctor, Mr. Ethan; wish you 
had come in to see me sooner, for I fear this 
spell has caused me to fail to finish the purse I 
am knitting to present my brother for his birth- 
day present; nevertheless am very glad to be 
relieved of that terrible misery in my head, and 
thank you for its disappearance.” 


130 


MARGOLEEN. 


“You needn’t mind to thank me; I am glad 
you are better, and would have been to see about 
you sooner but didn’t know that you was sick 
until noon.” 

“Wish I was able to be up to-day,” said she, 
“guess you are very lonely here in this big house, 
with no company except the servants. ’ ’ 

“No, I rather enjoy being alone occasionally, 
yet I’m not alone to-day, since one of the ladies 
remained at home with me. ’ ’ 

“Which one?” 

“Miss Clifton.” 

“Do you mean to say that Miss Blanche is 
here and the other ladies absent?” 

“She is certainly in the house, and no doubt 
thinks I should exert myself to entertain her, 
yet to be plain, Mrs. Moorleigh, I just can’t bore 
myself with her all day; I was in hopes she too 
would take herself off to the city.” 

Mrs. Moorleigh had been in his employ for 
quite a number of years; she was a sensible old 
lady, whose kind sympathy had ever been a 
source of great consolation to him, therefore he 
entrusted her with about as much confidence as 
he ever gave anyone, consequently expressed hi§ 
dislike for the heiress to her in full. 

“I dislike to treat anyone with disrespect, 


MARGOLEEN. 


131 


especially in my own house, yet it worries me 
beyond measure to be bored with her.” 

“Well, Mr. Ethan, I’d just go on and attend 
to my own affairs; never mind what she thinks; 
as. for my part I don’t know where her eyes can 
be, that she don’t see how distasteful she is to 
you; I could see it the first time she came here 
on a visit; and between you and me, I don’t 
understand how anyone could admire her; I can’t 
see what your mother finds attractive about her. 
That they are working to captivate you is very 
discernable, but I’m glad you are wise enough 
to read that woman; take my advice, Mr. Ethan, 
and steer your ship clear of her. ’ ’ 

“You are quite right, Mrs. Moorleigh, I don’t 
consider her a worthy lady by any means, and 
if your supposition be true that she is trying to 
captivate me, the attempt is fruitless, I’ll assure 
you.” 

During this time the lady in question sat in 
the parlor idly turning the leaves of a book, 
anxiously expecting the master of the house to 
make his appearance, until she at last decided 
that he did not mean to come and went to her 
room, wrote a letter which she secretly mailed 
on the following evening, amd when Mrs. Eewis 
came back, met and asked if she was not worn 
out with the day’s trip. 


132 


MARGOLEEN. 


“I’m right tired,” said her friend, kissing her 
upon the cheek and handing her a package of 
knick-knacks. 

“And how have you and Ethan spent the time, 
pleasantly I trust?” 

“Yes, we got along very well; did you get 
Margoleen’s habit?” 

“Oh yes, and was more fortunate than I ex- 
pected; found a beautiful one, ready made, that 
fits to perfection; ’tis blue in color, with cap to 
correspond; you must see it. Margoleen, bring 
the valise and show your habit to Miss Blanche. ’ ’ 

“It is quite pretty,” said the heiress, as our 
heroine held up the costume for her inspection. 


CHAPTER XX. 

So enthusiastic was Mrs. Eewis over Margo- 
leen’s new habit, that the next morning found 
her up and out in time to see them off for another 
horse-back ride, and as she watched her son 
hand the beautiful figure to her saddle, she 
almost wished that she was, in reality, her 
daughter. 

“But no, I could never consent to my son 
marrying a woman who is beneath him in rank, 
I know nothing about this girl only that she is 
a most beautiful creature, yet is, perhaps, of low 


MARGOLEEN. 


133 


birth; no, dear Blanche, I shall not give up my 
hope of you,” she soliloquized, as she stood and 
watched them ride from her sight. 

From this time on they continued to ride every 
morning when the weather would permit, until 
our heroine could have been classed among the 
best lady riders of the community, and that she 
enjoyed these rides could not be disputed; yes, 
she grew to look forward to them as the happiest 
moments of her life, and he, what shall we say 
of him? Associating with this pure, young 
creature, the curtain of his memory rolls back 
and reveals his past; again his youthful strength 
is renewed, yet he realizes it to be the life-long 
love of matured manhood, instead of the fierce 
passion of a boy, and believing his affection to 
be sadly misplaced, the poem of Henry Kirk 
White inevitably comes to his mind — 

“Is it a weakness thus to dwell 
On passions that I dare not tell ? 

Such weakness I would ever prove; 

’Tis painful but ’tis sweet to love.” 

Two months had gone by since the family 
had been united, and during this short period a 
link that was never to be broken, was formed in 
their lives. His thoughtful care of her, together 
with the knowledge of his superior wisdom and 
most worthy character, caused what might be 


134 


MARGOLEEN. 


termed her soul’s awakening. She now loved 
him with her whole heart, whilst he, bathed in 
the influence of her sweet disposition, felt that 
he must soon leave ere she realized how deeply 
he loved her. “But a little while longer must I 
trust myself near her,’’ he mused each day, “I 
would not cloud her pure, sweet life with the 
knowledge of my love, so hopelessly vain. I 
must return to my rambles, but I shall first en- 
deavor to surround her with friends and ac- 
quaintances, that she may be happier here.’’ 

“Yes, we must give an entertainment of some 
kind and acquaint her with the young folks of 
the community. I would prefer her making her 
debut in our own home, as there are generally 
so many fops to encounter in cities,’’ he had re- 
marked to his mother one day, “and will leave 
it to your decision as to what kind of an enter- 
tainment we give.” 

“Blanche and I have concluded that a lawn 
party would be the most appropriate. There 
has been nothing of this kind in the neighbor- 
hood, and you know I dislike to be common; 
besides, our grounds are so nice for such occa- 
sions,” said she. 

“Very well, set your time, make out your 
order for refreshments, etcetera, and all things 
shall be as you desire.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


135 


“Well, let me think; this is Monday evening: 
to-morrow week will be the time. Engage a 
band of music and have plenty of lights; as for 
refreshments, you and Mrs. Moorleigh can at- 
tend to that, I will have enough to think about 
without bothering about this.” 

Miss Clifton and her hostess set to work in 
earnest, and were all absorbed in preparation 
for their toilettes, yet Margoleen, never having 
been present on such an occasion, felt but little 
interest; however, she did as Mrs. L,ewis directed 
in regard to braiding her hair on the evening 
before. 

‘ ‘ Blanche, ’ ’ said Mrs. L,ewis, on the day follow- 
ing her son’s conversation in which a lawn party 
was agreed upon, “have you made out a list of 
those you wish to invite to our party ? Here is 
mine,’’ she continued, holding up a long list of 
names. 

“I have only a few names down,” was the reply. 

“Well, give them to me, and Ethan will have 
the invitations printed; I want everything in 
style, you know. Here, son!” she called as 
Ethan started out to ride down to the city. 
“And where is your list, Margie?” he asked, 
smiling. 

“I don’t know anyone; therefore, am not able 
to get up a list.” 


136 


MARGOLEEN. 


“You shall not have that to say when the 
party is over, for I shall see that you have an 
introduction all around.” 

The week soon went by bringing the evening 
for the eventful occasion. All things were now 
in readiness, the grounds and mansion illumin- 
ated, and the crowd assembled, when Mr. Lewis 
went in search of his ward. 

“There she is,” said Mrs. Moorleigh, pointing 
to the demure little figure in the back sitting 
room, seated in the shade of the chandelier, her 
creamy lace dress, besprinkled with imitation 
dewdrops, her long braided hair looped back 
from her peach glowing face, with ornaments of 
pearl. Mrs. Lewis’ taste had been considered 
in all save her dress being cut low in the neck 
and short sleeves, as was the style of Miss 
Clifton’s in these particulars, but adhered to her 
own preference for one made high in the neck 
and long sleeves. 

“Come, Margie, let me conduct you to our 
guests and introduce you. ’ ’ 

She arose and took his proffered arm, while a 
slight shudder shook her frame. 

“Hello! my little girl, you are not scared, are 
you?” 

“I feel a little nervous,” she answered, with 
trembling voice. 


MARGOLEEIN. 


137 


“Let me bring you a drink of water; now let 
us take a turn across the room and back, per- 
haps this will serve to compose you.” 

Together they walked up and down the floor 
several times, then stopping before a large mir- 
ror, he said in a casual manner, “January and 
May don’t harmonize; the frost of the one would 
blight the other. ’ ’ 

“What do you mean, sir?” 

“I mean that I was once young and hopeful, 
like you,” he evasively replied. 

“I am sure you don’t look old, Mr. Lewis. 

“Age has begun to tell on me. Shall we go? 
Do you now feel that you can meet the crowd?” 

“I am much stronger, let us go.” 

He proudly led her amid the throng and in- 
troduced her, while all eyes gleamed with ad- 
miration. Finding her a seat he left her in con- 
versation with several young ladies and went in 
search of some fans. On his way he met Miss 
Clifton coming through the hall, leaning upon 
the arm of a strikingly handsome young man, 
whom he had never before seen, and she ac- 
costed him in the following manner, “Mr. Lewis, 
I will make you acquainted with my nephew, 
Mr. Benton Percy; he has just arrived; and I am 
taking the liberty of seeing him to the par- 
lors.” 


138 MARGOLEEti. 


“Welcome, Mr. Percy; I am happy to meet 
you. Take him along, Miss Blanche, I’ll be 
back, presently. Make yourself at home, Mr. 
Percy. ’ ’ 

“Thank you,” and bowing gracefully, he 
(Percy) walked on, talking to his companion in 
a low tone. “I was somewhat puzzled over 
your letter,” he was saying to her, “yet under- 
stood that you wished jne to be certain to be 
here to-night. ’ ’ 

“Yes, I am glad you are here, as I have a 
part for you to play that will be to our interest; 
greatly so, I’ll assure you.” 

“You excite my curiosity; tell me your mean- 
ing?” 

No, I cannot do that now, neither could I ex- 
plain by letter; I would fear to communicate my 
secret only in person. My scheme is a deep 
one, and the first young lady to whom I intro- 
duce you to-night, is its object. Remember 
your best powers of fascination are required here, 
and when the party is over be sure to call on 
me in my own private room; no one will dispute 
your right as my nephew, and there I shall give 
you a full explanation; don’t forget all I have 
told you.” 

“I shall not.” 

Together they entered the parlor, which glowed 


MaRGOLEEN. 


139 


in dazzling splendor, and leading him to where 
Margoleen sat, gaily chatting to some young 
girls, introduced him to her as Miss Melbroke. 
She acknowledged the introduction with a bow, 
and asked them to be seated. 

He did so and began a conversation, while the 
other girls whispered to each other that he was 
the handsomest young man in the house. Nor 
did they mistake when they pronounced him so, 
for he was truly what the average girl would 
rave over, fully six feet in height, well propor- 
tioned, had a clear, rosy complexion, black curly 
hair, large black eyes, delicate white hands, a 
beautiful foot, and was apparently about twenty- 
four or five years of age. His dress was fault- 
lessly neat; his diamond ring and shirt studs 
shed their rays promiscuously over the room. 

Mr. Lewis came back to find his ward appar- 
ently absorbed in this handsome young stranger, 
and Miss Clifton, having refused the only vacant 
seat near them, stood leaning upon the back of 
her nephew’s chair. 

“Have fans, ladies, said their host, proffering 
a handful of palms, “and I suggest that we go 
out upon the lawn, as it will perhaps be more 
pleasant outdoors. ’ ’ 

He had turned to lead the way, when Miss 
Clifton said in a tone scarcely audible to any in 


140 MARGOLEEti. 


the room save him, who was near her elbow, 
“I must find Mrs. Lewis or I shall be left.” 

“Come with me, Miss Blanche,” said the one 
for whom this speech was intended, “and I will 
escort yon to the lawn.” 

On their way out he came upon his mother, 
and offering to her his other arm, conducted 
both ladies to a rustic bench, amid several clus- 
tering groups of people who had gone ahead of 
them. He left them here, where together, for a 
long time, they interested themselves watching 
the young people promenade up and down the 
lovely walk, until at length, hanging upon the 
arm of Benton Percy, Margoleen made her 
appearance. Mrs. Lewis, now observing him 
for the first time, inquired who he was. 

“That gentleman with Margoleen is my 
nephew, Mr. Benton Percy,” replied her com- 
panion, “don’t you think them a handsome 
pair?” 

“By far the handsomest on the grounds; but 
why have you not told me of him before?” 

“I preferred to wait and let you judge whether 
or not he be handsome.” 

“He certainly is,” and Mrs. Lewis’ gaze fol- 
lowed him until they were out of sight, while 
her companion poured into her credulous ear a 
history of his most estimable character. 


MARGOLEEN. 


141 


“He is all that an aunt should be proud of,” 
she went on, “his disposition is most loveable, 
and should I die without children, he inherits 
my entire estate.” 

“Ah!” 

“Yes, I have made my will to this effect.” 

Mrs. Eewis now grew more interested, and 
when her son returned, called his attention to 
the handsome couple as they again came up the 
walk, stepping time to the sweet strains of music. 

“Yes, I have been noticing them,” said he, 
as the heiress keenly scrutinized his countenance. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Benton Percy, to his displeasure, had been 
removed from Margoleen’s side, and was now 
endeavoring to collect his disconcerted faculties 
sufficient to entertain a pretty country lass, who 
fluently questioned him in regard to his home, 
business, stay in Kentucky, etc. His eyes and 
eyes and attention was so often turned to Margo- 
leen, and his replies so often given in monosylla- 
bles, that his companion must have detected his 
lack of interest, and grown weary of his society. 
Several hours of the evening had been most 
pleasantly spent, when supper was announced, 
and Mr. Kewis, in company with a young man, 


142 


MARGOLEEN. 


whom he had previously introduced to Margo- 
leen, came to her and said, “My friend, Mr. 
Montgomery, solicits the pleasure of accompany- 
ing Miss Melbroke to supper. 

“Certainly,” she replied, as she arose and 
accepted his proffered arm. Together they pro- 
ceeded to the table, much to the discomfiture of 
the heiress and her nephew. However, they 
were not to be discouraged by the seeming prefer- 
ence for Mr. Montgomery. 

“That man shall be no stumbling-block to my 
desire; I can see that he is alreadj^ charmed with 
her, yet I am confident she acknowledges Eenton 
to be the handsomest man of the two, and I am 
sure he has the art of ensnaring all upon whom 
he sees fit to smile,” soliloquized Miss Clifton, 
as she fell into ranks and went out to the most 
sumptuous repast. 

We will here describe Waller Montgomery as 
being a young man of sterling worth; integrity 
was stamped upon his brow, his disposition was 
bright and cheerful, and his business qualities 
most admirable. He was of medium size, fair 
complexion, and dressed neatly, yet not dudish. 
He was a resident of their neighboring city, 
Cashier of its First National Bank, quite wealthy, 
and aside from his laudible character, a warm 
friend of Ethan Lewis; hence, expressed his 


MARGOLEEN. 


143 


admiration of his ward, and asked his permission 
to visit her with the view to matrimony. It was 
indeed bitter for Ethan to surrender the privilege 
of seeking her hand to another, when he himself 
loved her so dearly, yet he did so, believing 
there was no hope for himself, and that he was 
granting the request of a pure, good man, whom 
any woman might be proud to call husband. “I 
cannot expect her to remain single always, and 
if I must give her up, why not to Waller?” he 
mused. 

The time had now expired for the guests to 
remain longer, and it was generally expressed 
as being the most enjoyable event of the .season. 
Good-byes had been exchanged, and Margoleen, 
though somewhat fatigued, was in a perfect state 
of bliss at the idea of having made the acquaint- 
ance of the neighbor girls, and formed a compact 
to be sociable enough to them. ‘‘I don’t care 
if I never go to spend my time in cities, I am as 
happy here as I could wish to be,” she solilo- 
quized, as her nimble fingers unlossed her even- 
ing dress, shook out her heavy coils of hair, and 
enrobed herself for sleep. The company had all 
gone except Benton Percy, who, upon the plea 
of relationship, had been invited by Mrs. Eewis 
to remain for a time with his aunt. 

“Thank you,” was the reply to the invitation, 


144 


MARGOLEEN. 


“I shall be stopping for a time in your city, as 
business requires my presence there, but as I 
have not seen my aunt for some time before 
to-night, will accept your kind hospitality and 
remain over at least for the night. I would 
like, if it will not disturb you, to go to her room 
awhile before I retire?” 

‘‘Certainly, Mr. Percy, you need not fear that 
you will disturb anyone. Phil,” she called, 
‘‘show Mr. Percy first to the room that he is to 
occupy, then to his aunt’s, Miss Clifton’s room. 
You can then find your way when it suits you 
to retire, Mr. Percy.” 

‘‘Thank you,” and again he bowed and gave 
her one of his most fascinating smiles. 

‘‘Come in,” said his aunt, as Phil tapped 
gently at her door. He dismissed his attendant, 
entered, and took her proffered seat. She w r ent 
to the door, strained her ear for a second, and 
gently turned the key in the lock; then drawing 
her chair close to him, began the following con- 
versation: 

‘‘Well, Benton, how do you like Miss Mel- 
broke?” 

‘‘Staviugly,” was his rough answer, quite 
different from the refined language he had used 
in the presence of the lady now in question. 
‘‘Yes, I’m dead gone on her! What is it you. 


MARGOLEEN. 


145 


wish me closeted here with you for, Aunt 
Blanche ? You had best let me go on to bed 
and dream sweet dreams of Margoleen Mel- 
broke. ’ ’ 

“Hush! talk low; someone might poke their 
ear to the keyhole.” 

“Well, I’m quiet now, and all attention; what 
is your scheme ? To kill Margoleen and marry 
her guardian yourself? Ah-ha, Auntie! How 
many eyes would you suppose me to have?” 

“If you will ever be quiet, I’ll proceed to tell 
you for what purpose I wrote, summoning you 
here.” 

“All right; go on.” 

“Well, to begin with, you know, Benton, that 
my business is in quite a shaky condition. The 
Pine Grove mansion and its belongings are now 
not only heavily mortgaged but a terrible law- 
suit is pending as to my rightful inheritance. 
That it is quite necessary for us to contrive some 
way to stand off the difficulties, you are cer- 
tainly aware.” 

“Yes, indeed; and we will have to shuffle like 
the mischief to be ready to fight them,” was the 
reply. 

“You are quite right, and now to the point. 
I have studied out a plan that will secure us, 
even should Pine Grove be swept away, and it 


146 


MARGOLEEN. 


is this: You go to work, captivate Margoleen, 
and marry her at the earliest period you can get 
her to consent. She is the ward of Ethan 
Eewis, who is not only the master of Cuthbert, 
but also a man of other great wealth. He loves 
his ward to an extent that he will not only set- 
tle a good estate upon her when she marries, 
but, having good reason to believe he will never 
marry himself, I know he will make her his 
sole heir; I believe he has just this love for and 
confidence in her. The man who calls her wife 
will be most fortunate, indeed. In other words, 
Benton, I could then through your stratagem, 
redeem the Pine Grove property, which is to be 
yours at my death, remember, besides, I tell 
you Ethan Eewis will, at once, make the hus- 
band of his pet a rich man. Do you under- 
stand me?” 

“Indeed, I do, and shall go to work at once. 
How do my burnsides look, Auntie? Am I as 
good looking as I used to be?” said he, arising 
and going to the mirror. “By Jove! Margoleen 
is a fortune, herself; hasn’t she tempting 
lips?” 

“Yes, but you will have to be very refined to 
suit her taste; you should not attempt to kiss 
her before marriage.” 

“Is she so prudish as this?” 


MARGOLEEN. 


147 


“She certainly is; so be on your guard, by all 
means.” 

“All right, auntie, I’ll do as you say, but 
where shall I stay during our courtship? Down 
at the nearest city?” 

“Of course; you can pretend to be there on 
business for awhile, and you should waste no 
time in wooing her. Go to your room now, and 
be sure to see her again before you leave.” 

“Very well,” and he was soon in bed, sleep- 
ing soundly. 

Having kept such late hours the previous 
night, the entire household slept late the next 
morning, and the sun was away up in the sky 
when they met at the breakfast table. The 
meal being over, Mr. Percy requested Miss Mel- 
broke’s presence in the parlor. Accordingly, 
she dressed herself in a pale blue lawn and 
made her appearance. For an hour or more 
they remained in pleasant conversation, until at 
length he started, after receiving her consent to 
call again the next day. 

“I shall be in your city, sometimes,” said he, 
“and would be most happy to meet you 
often. ’ ’ 

“Call again,” she answered, as he tipped his 
hat in adieu and left the house. “He is quite 
handsome,” thought she, “yet there is some- 


148 


MARGOLEEN. 


thing wanting in his face and manner,” and for 
a moment he was forgotten. 

A few evenings after this, she was in the 
library seated with her back to the door, poring 
over Longfellow’s poems, when her guardian 
walked into the room, and without speaking, 
stood looking at her fair young face. 

“Be seated, Mr. Lewis,” she said, without 
raising her eyes from the book. 

“How did you know it was I, Margoleen?” 

“I can always tell when you are behind or 
near me,” was her answer, that caused his heart 
to thrill with faint hope, to be soon trampled by 
the conviction that to think of her loving a man 
as old as himself would be doing her an injus- 
tice, and with a mighty effort he calmed him- 
self sufficiently to say, as he took a seat near 
her, “Margoleen, I have come here to talk to 
you upon a subject that seems to be my sacred 
duty.” 

“What is it, sir?” she inquired, with interest. 

“You are now a grown young lady, and ac- 
cording to the natural course of life, will some 
day think about marrying,” A blush dyed her 
cheek, and her heart beat in breathless sus- 
pense, whilst he paused abruptly, and heaved a 
deep sigh. “What is he going to say to me? 
Has he suspected my affection for him?” were 


MARGOLEEN. 149 


her thoughts, when he began again, “yes, 
Margie, you will some day think about marry- 
ing, and what I would tell you is this: My 
friend, Mr. Waller Montgomery, has asked my 
permission to visit you with a view to matri- 
mony.” 

“Is it that you want me to marry, and select 
Mr. Montgomery as my husband?” she asked, 
in a piqued tone. 

“No, no, Margoleen; I would not have you 
marry anyone only through your own choice, 
but as I promised my friend that he could visit 
you, I think it but just that I should speak to 
you in his behalf. Remember that I would have 
you use your own pleasure as regards your ac- 
tions towards him in connection with yourself. 
He is my friend and I can conscientiously rec- 
ommend him as being a man of exemplary 
habits; noble, generous, industrious, possessed 
of all that' is calculated to make a woman happy. ” 

“I am already happy, Mr. Lewis.” 

“True, Margoleen, but you may not always 
be so, and should you ever be interested in him, 
you may understand that he is worthy. Don’t 
think I want my little girl to be in any hurry 
whatever to marry, bide your own time, and as 
long as you can be content to remain single, I 
shall not urge you otherwise.” 


150 


MARGOLEEN. 


“Then you won’t be mad if I don’t choose 
Mr. Montgomery?’’ she laughingly said. 

“No, no, but you will tell me ere long that 
you are dead in love with him.’’ 


CHAPTER XXII. 

From this time on, both Montgomery and 
Percy visited Margoleen regularly, while a more 
responsive heart silently awaited the conse- 
quences. Ethan’s flattering description had 
naturally caused her to respect his friend; indeed, 
she learned from association that he was more 
than an ordinary gentleman, so strictly refined 
in sentiment as to win the admiration of all who 
knew him. She enjoyed his society very much, 
and treated him with marked deference, yet, a 
deeper feeling than friendship, for one she knew 
to be a favorite of her benefactor, had never 
pierced her heart, ’though Ethan sometimes 
imagined his prophesy nearing consummation, 
and endeavored to console himself with the 
thought that it would be his dear friend who 
would occupy the place in her affections that he 
so vainly desired. 

He had about determined to again leave home 
for a time, when one day, during one of his 
friend’s visits to his ward, he was seated upon 


MArgoleen. 


151 


the front balcony reading, and heard through 
the large bay window that opened from the par- 
lor, (wherein he sat) Waller ask Margoleen to 
play an old Scottish air, whose title I disremem- 
ber. Accordingly she seated herself at the piano, 
and never before did he hear her play with such 
skill, or sing with such effect. Her whole soul 
seemed thrown pathetically into this Scotch 
lament, so peculiarly adapted to his own sad 
life, that he (Ethan) almost dared to lay the true 
state of his feelings before her, and receive from 
her lips his denunciation. When the song was 
ended, without the intention of eaves-dropping, 
he heard the calm, modulated voice of his friend 
say, “Miss Margoleen, you cannot be blind to 
the fact that my attention to you means more 
than mere friendship.” Ethan tarried not to 
hear more, but took himself off at once, feeling 
that the inevitable crisis had come at last. We 
will not relate the ensuing conversation between 
them, suffice it to say that when Waller Mont- 
gomery left her presence, some two hours later, 
his face, though still calm, wore a disappointed 
look, and Ethan, without waiting to learn the 
result of this occasion, which he feels confident 
has ended in his friend’s favor, fearing to subject 
himself to the mean tiger, jealousy, left home. 
Meantime Benton Percy never lost an oppor- 


152 


MARGOLEEN. 


tunity possible for him to be in her company, 
nor did he fail to exert every power imaginable 
to ingratiate himself; he could laugh, cry, sigh, 
do anything to perfection that was calculated to 
move her in his favor, and she had really been 
decoyed into enjoying his company to an extent 
that when he failed to call (which he occasion- 
ally did on purpose that he might note her 
interest) she missed his seemingly happy flow of 
spirits which had enlivened the hours since 
Ethan had gone and Waller Montgomery de- 
creased his visits; and when he (Percy) thought 
his way paved sufficiently that she would accept 
his hand in marriage, proposed. 

“I love you more than all the world,” he said 
to her, “and will do all in my power to make 
you happy, yea, surround you with every eom- 
fort, tell me, Margoleen, that you love me, and 
will consent to be my wife. ’ ’ 

Imagine his consternation when calmly she 
replied, “Mr. Percy, while I thank you for pay- 
ing me what I consider the greatest compliment 
that a gentleman can bestow upon a lady (his 
name, heart, and protection), yet I truly regret 
it, as I cannot be your wife.” 

“And why not?” he asked. 

“Because I do not love you.” 

“Could you not in time learn to love me; I 


Margoleen. 


153 


would wait patiently for you, Margoleen; is there 
no hope for me?” 

“No sir, I think not.” 

“Is there anyone else whom you do love?” 

“You have no right to ask this question.” 

“I will not give you up, but shall praj r fer- 
vently that the time will come when you will 
say, ‘Benton, I love you,’” and the earnest 
look upon his face plead for him wonderfully. 
“You will not forbid my society, will you, Mar- 
goleen? The thought of this would kill me,” 
and he wiped a tear from his eye with his hand- 
kerchief. 

“I am perfectly willing to receive your visits 
in friendship, but as I would not mislead you in 
regard to my appreciation, I warn you to place 
your affections upon some one else who could 
reciprocate your love.” 

The clock in the hall chimed ten when he 
arose and said, “Your bed time, I shall go, but 
must see you again soon. I want you to remem- 
ber that to-night you have stabbed as true a heart 
as ever beat; meantime I shall pray that you pull 
the dagger from my breast and allow the wound 
to heal; good-night,” and he was gone. 

Margoleen now alone, felt a little afraid to go 
upstairs. “I will go for Tricksy,” she decided, 
and as she neared the kitchen door, distinctly 


154 


MARGOLEEti. 


heard her maid, who at this time was also enter- 
taining company, say, “I spec it is ten o’clock, 
Jim, de time for all decent folks to be in bed, so 
I’se bound to say good-night. ” 

“I don’t know what de clock say, but de hands 
ob my heart pints zackly toge you, Miss Tricksy, 
I’se shoo,” said he. 

Margoleen could scarce refrain from laughing 
outright, as she called, ‘‘Come, Tricksy, it is 
bed-time,” and Jim at once left the kitchen. 

‘‘Miss Margoleen, would yer mind to stand 
here in the kitchen door until I go and lock the 
meat house door?” said Tricksy. ‘‘Aunt Silvie 
told me to be sure to lock it, and hang the key 
in the kitchen, before I went to bed.” 

‘‘I will go with you,” said she, a little afraid 
to be left, as she was unaccustomed to being 
alone, and somehow felt a little more nervous 
to-night than usual; so together they went across 
the yard, and as they returned to the house, saw 
a man step from the West balcony and flee to the 
shadow of the lilac bushes. 

‘‘O! Tricksy; look, did you not see a man run 
from the porch?” 

‘‘Yes’um, less run.” 

With hearts beating with fright, they ran into 
the house, and slamming the door behind them, 
bolted upstairs, to be accosted by Miss Clifton, 


margoleen. 


lS5 


who met them at the head of the steps and asked, 
“What upon earth do you all mean by running 
upstairs in this boisterous manner, scaring people 
to death?” 

“Oh! Miss Blanche, we saw a man run from 
the West balcony,” said Margoleen in her ex- 
citement. 

“O pshaw! you have made all this ado about 
nothing; I saw Mr. Lewis’ old bird dog Don a 
few moments since leap over the banister of the 
balcony. I saw him from my window, threw a 
bowl of water on him while he slept, causing 
him to get away in a hurry. You mistook him 
for a man, ha! ha! your imagination is at fault 
this time. I could laugh at you good, only that 
you gave me such a scare. I shall go back to 
bed now, and trust you will not disturb me again 
with your absurd fancies.” 

Margoleen was soon in bed wondering how 
she could have been so much mistaken, yet she 
believed Miss Clifton’s statement to be true, 
since she remembered to have been exceedingly 
nervous all that evening. 

“I surely am not very well,” she had said to 
Tricksy, who was revolving in her mind the 
thought of how Miss Clifton arranged to dress so 
quickly if she had already retired. 

Yet their story was true, they had indeed seen 


MAkGOLEfcN. 


166 


a man and he was no other than Benton Percy, 
who, after taking leave of Margoleen, had as 
often before, stole or was attempting to steal, to 
his aunt’s room, by way of this side entrance, in 
order to post her in regard to his lack of success 
with Margoleen, nor was he thwarted in this 
to-night, for after waiting until she knew the 
house was again quiet, his aunt waved from her 
window a signal that he understood meant for 
him to again attempt to enter, and it was not 
long until he was securely by the side of her, who 
was so much interested, relating her defeat. 

“Never mind, Benton,” .she said, after lower- 
ing her eyes for a few moments in reflection, “I 
think I have a plan that will bring her into 
measures.” 

“What now, auntie? I’m so much infatuated 
that I am ready for any emergency; let me hear 
your plan at once.” 

“Well, you understand that Margoleen be- 
lieves her father to have been lost at sea?” 

“Just so.” 

“Benton, now listen (drawing her chair a lit- 
tle closer to him). You must write her an 
anonymous letter, saying that her father still 
lives, though for reasons which he will explain 
later, wishes his existence kept a profound se- 
cret, and desiring to see his child who was torn 


MARGOLEEN. 


157 


from his bosom in infancy, wishes her to have 
confidence enough in him to meet him at twi- 
light in the old mill-house at the back of the or- 
chard. Ask her to come alone, as you, her 
father, want to confide in her, his dear child, 
the secret of his persecuted life. Get you a grey 
wig, false beard to match, a regular vagabond’s 
attire, and be certain to perfume yourself well 
with alcohol. She wfill come expecting to be 
received by a loving father, and will be so 
humbled by the thought of being the child of a 
vagabond, that you will be liable to get her 
under control; then begin at once to try to per- 
suade her to promise to marry Benton Percy, 
you understand. Only stratagem of this . kind 
will serve your purpose. She will admonish 
you to be a Christian; promise her that you will 
reform if she will marry the man of your choice. 
Think up some great story to tell her of his 
benevolence to you — that he saved your life, or 
something of the kind. She may at first refuse 
to accede, but continue to follow her up, and 
urge your request. We know that she has re- 
fused to marry Waller Montgomery, who is con- 
sidered the best catch for a young girl around 
here, and she certainly would have accepted 
him, but ah! I know the reason she. refused. him, 
she loves her guardian, and he almost old enough 


158 


MARGOLEEN. 


to be her father! Yes, follow her up, Benton, 
dog her steps, slip to her room occasionally, 
claiming that it is a father’s right, worry her 
until she finally surrenders, which I’m sure she 
will eventually do, and the victory will be ours.” 

“I’m your man, auntie; you dear old duck, 
to engineer for me.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Two days later our heroine, alone in her room, 
sat by the open window, watching the lowering 
clouds that now threatened rain, while her hand 
tightly clasped a letter whose contents she now 
pondered. Many had been the times, since her 
guardian left, that she sighed, yea, longed for 
his society, yet to-day did she more particularly 
feel the need of his wonted sympathy, so pecu- 
liarly her own right, that when the least cloud 
darkened her sky, her thoughts turned to him, 
as the needle to the pole. “But even were he 
here,” the unhappy thought ran through her 
mind, “lam not at liberty to tell him my trou- 
ble. This, like the other important secret of my 
life, must be locked from him; what to do I do 
not know, the letter tells me that my father still 
lives, yet desires his existence kept secret. ’Tis 
strange he has never before foua4 roe out, or at 


MARGOLEEN. 


159 


least made his existence known to me. I do 
wonder what compels him to live in obscurity; 
it seems that he could have been more explicit 
in his letter, at any rate I’m a little doubtful in 
regard to his being my father, and don’t think I 
could have the courage to meet him at the old 
mill-house alone. I’ll wait until something more 
definite comes to light.” 

And so endeavoring to put the subject from 
her mind, she went down to the piano and sug- 
gested to play for the other ladies of the house a 
new song they had never heard. 

“I don’t like the song very much,” said Mrs. 
Lewis, when she had finished playing; “you 
don’t seem to know it, I never heard you play 
so out of tune before. ’ ’ 

“I only took it up a little while yesterday and 
played it so well then I thought I could do it 
again to-day. I shall not attempt to play again 
for anyone until I have practiced it more; leav- 
ing the room she continued, “I believe I will go 
to the orchard and get a basket of apples.” 

“Why Margoleen, Tricksy or Phil can go for 
the apples,” said Mrs. Lewis. 

“I prefer to go myself, as I want the walk 
anyway,” said she, as the piercing eye of her 
enemy (Miss Clifton) notes her restlessless, and 
well understood its cause. 


ICO 


MARGOLEEN. 


“You should not start out for a walk at this 
hour of the day; see, it is only three o’clock; 
wait until later, when the sun gets lower it will 
be cooler, and I, perhaps, will go with you.” 

So her inclination to go just now to the orchard 
and determine the exact situation of the mill- 
house was thwarted, as in consideration of her 
benefactor, she was, in most things, obedient to 
his mother, hence her walk was postponed until 
later in the evening, when the other ladies would 
accompany her. She would not admit, even to 
herself, that she had any thought of granting 
her alleged father’s request, who said in his letter 
of this morning’s date, “Meet me alone, at the 
old mill-house in the orchard, at twilight to- 
morrow evening; I am so anxious to see my 
child who was torn from me in infancy. Dear 
Margoleen, come to your father who has been 
persecuted most cruelly; don’t be afraid to come, 
and I will make plain what now seems mysterious 
to you.’’ 

“I shall not go,’’ she repeated in his mind, 
and yet these words haunted her to such an 
extent that she was both restless and miserable. 
At length Mrs. Lewis, and also Miss Clifton, 
expressed themselves ready to walk with her, 
and as she proceeded thither Margoleen rejoiced 
that it was this, instead of the flowing evening^ 


MARGOLEEN. 


161 


they were to accompany her. She would not 
acknowledge that she would go to the mill- house 
on the appointed evening, yet a mysterious in- 
fluence was moving her in this direction. 

“Let us go to the back of the orchard,” sug- 
gested she, as they stopped beneath the shade of 
a large tree, which Mrs. Lewis named a Summer 
Pearmain, and continued, “there are not many 
good apples over there, only the mill-house 
stands amidst a dense clump of trees that bear 
but little fruit.” 

“Well, we won’t go over there,” said Miss 
Clifton, watching the effect of her words upon 
Margoleen’s face. 

“Suppose we do go,” urged our heroine, “I 
would like to see the old mill-house.” 

“There is but little to see now, since the 
machinery was removed several years ago, leav- 
ing the old house in a state of dilapidation. 
Ethan said he would not have it torn down, as 
it would serve as shelter for his sheep and hogs. 
However, as ’tis pleasant, we will walk over 
there. Do you feel like going, Blanche?” 

“Oh, yes, I guess I can walk as far as you 
can. 

So they went, and unconscious of her every 
act being noted, Margoleen walked about and 
examined the whole house. “It is a delolate 


162 


MARGOLEEN. 


place,” thought she, “and I don’t think I could 
come here alone, though it were to meet my own 
father. He is unknown to me, and I tremble 
at the thought of meeting a stranger here 
alone.” 

When she went to bed that night, it was not 
to sleep, for her mind was so disturbed at the 
idea of her father being alive, and requesting 
her to meet him clandestinely; the attempt was 
vain. The entire night was spent with her eyes 
wide open, and the next morning she arose in 
such feverish excitement that the heiress greatly 
feared Mrs. Lewis would detect her unusual rest- 
lessness, and perhaps in some way spoil her plan 
for this evening, hence she herself found it quite 
difficult to resume her usual calm throughout 
the day, yet, without the observation of others, 
managed to keep her hawkish eye upon its un- 
suspecting prey, until at last the shades of even- 
ing grew long, the clock struck six, and she 
discovered Margoleen with a feigned excuse, lift 
her sun hat from the rack, and humming an air 
that was anything but congenial to her feelings, 
go skipping out of the house without asking 
anyone to accompany her, the eyes of her enemy 
discovered that after walking about the yard and 
examining the rose-buds for a time, she stole 
through the gate that opened into the orchard 


MARGOLEEN. 


163 


and was soon hid from view by the spreading 
fruit trees. 

“She has surely gone,” said the heiress to 
herself, “thank goodness for that! How I do 
wish I could follow and see her meet him; but 
no, that would not do; I might be seen and this 
would ruin all; I must wait and trust to Ben- 
ton’s shrewdness, ’tis all that I can do.” So 
she set to work to keep her hostess’ mind well 
occupied with a history of her previous days. 

“You have had a great deal of attention, 
Blanche, it is a great wonder that you have 
never married,’’ said Mrs. Lewis. 

“Yes, my admirers have been so numerous as 
to compel me to flee to some secluded spot to 
have a little quiet. Often have I left home on 
this account. You have no idea of the number 
of hands — I will not say hearts, since it is sel- 
dom a man courts an heiress for anything but 
her property — I have refused, but, of course, 
dear Mrs. Lewis, you will keep what I say on 
this subject strictly confidential; I can say so 
much to you as we have long been friends, and 
I know you will not deem me egotistical. It is 
not myself, understand, that they so much de- 
sire, but my wealth, and I would marry a man 
who loves me only for my humble self.’’ 

“You remind me of Ethan in your view of 


164 


MARGOLEEN. 


matrimony, he will never marry for money; no, 
indeed.” 

While Mrs. Lewis is so well entertained that 
she does not notice Margoleen’s absence, we 
will go on after her, who, with loud beating 
heart and trembling limbs, is making her way 
to the old mill-house, where she has all the time 
tried to persuade herself she would not go on 
this appointed evening. Vainly she had en- 
deavored to put the subject from her mind, yet 
the words, “don’t be afraid to come; I am long- 
ing to once more see my child, who was torn 
from me in infancy,” rang in her ears. “I do 
not know my father, yet remember that my 
mother apparently loved his memory more than 
all else. I must go,” she finally decided. I 
must see my father,” and on she sped, until 
earning to a door of the old mill-house, she 
stopped to gather courage, when she heard a 
sepulchral voice say, “come in, my child; ’tis 
yet too light for me to risk meeting you at the 
door.” 

With resolute tread she stepped in a few 
yards, when the most horrid looking old man 
she had ever seen, ran and enfolded her tremb- 
ling form in an embrace, while the fumes of 
alcohol almost suffocated her. He kissed her 
twice upon the cheek, ere she had the^presence 


MARGOLEEN. 


165 


of mind to try and defend herself, then with un- 
natural strength she eluded his grasp and was 
about to scream for help, when he said, “don’t 
scream, my dear child; don’t call the persecutors 
upon your poor father, who has already had 
trouble enough to kill him. You are indeed my 
daughter, the child of poor Agnes. Oh how I 
once loved your mother, and thought that she 
loved me, even though I drank liquor.” 

“And did you love ‘King Alcohol’ more than 
my sainted mother?” she looked at him, now 
defiantly, and asked. 

“No, no, Margoleen, hear me through, and 
you surely cannot withhold your sympathy at 
least.” 

“Go on,” she demanded. 

“Well, your mother and I lived happily 
together until another fellow learned to love her 
fair face. Believing her to return his attentions 
I grew jealons, and stabbed him, with a dagger, 
in his breast, which ended his life. Your mother 
seemed much affected, pleading her innocence, 
but I don’t know yet but what she was at 
fault.” 

“No, sir, I cannot believe my mother guilty 
of wrong; you are certainly mistaken.” 

“Well, I guess this has been determined in 
the other world. Anyway I was arrested, tried 


]66 


MARGOLEEN. 


before the court, and sentenced to be hung for 
murder. ’ ’ 

“Then why did my mother teach me that my 
father was lost at sea?” 

“Tost at sea,” he repeated, “ha! ha! that is 
just like her; she ever had a plaster ready for 
difficulties; she did not want her child to believe, 
as she did, that it’s father was hung; but, thank 
God, in this she was mistaken, and that I still 
live to stand before my child to plead for the 
happiness of him who rescued me from the gal- 
lows. He loves my child, and will you not 
repay him for saving you from the shame of 
being a hanged man’s child, by giving him j^our 
hand in marriage? He slipped me out of prison, 
gave me money to flee, else X would have been 
hung, and you wearing the disgrace of your 
father’s crime. Since then I have assumed the 
name of Dudly Hugo, and ’tis only whiskey that 
keeps me from the mad-house. Will you marry 
my friend, Margoleen; I repeat, will you 
marry him?” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

“Who is he?” she asked. 

“Benton Percy, the only friend I have on 
earth.” 


MARGOLEEN. 167 


“And would you have your child marry a man 
whom she does not love?” 

“Pshaw! that’s all stuff; if he is kind to you, 
which I know he will be, as he loves your dearly, 
you will soon learn to love him, for he has the 
money to treat you like a queen.” 

“I cannot marry Mr. Percy, I do not love him, 
and if you were in reality my father I don’t 
think you would ask me to do so.” 

“Stop, Margoleen, I know whom you love; it 
is no other than the man you call guardian; let 
me say to you, he does not love you, and even 
even if he did, before he should stand in my 
friend’s way I would come out publicly and 
claim my right as your parent. That lovely 
spot,” he continued, moving his hand toward 
the mansion, “should no longer be your home; 
I would take you to my hut and there introduce 
you to the poverty designed for those of your 
rank. Again I ask, will you marry Benton 
Percy?” 

“I will not.” 

She now trembled for fear of violence, so angry 
he looked from his red, bloated face, yet he 
quelled his rage and answered, “My child, I do 
love you, and will give you time to consider my 
request. Go back to the house now, you might 
be missed; think the matter over, I don’t want 


168 


MARGOLEEN. 


to be hard on you, and one week from this even- 
ing I shall expect you here again to give me 
your decision, but remember, Margoleen, you 
must not refuse my request, it would not only 
prove detrimental to you, but cause me to 
plunge deeper into sin.” 

‘‘Before I go, I will make a request of you,” 
said she; ‘‘whether you be my father or not, I 
beg of you to reform your life and live a Chris- 
tian.” 

‘‘My child,” said he, as tears came to his 
eyes, an art he had in calling them forth when 
he deemed it necessary, ‘‘if you will give me my 
friend for a son-in-law, I will forever afterwards 
refrain from drink, lead a new life, and try to 
make you proud of me.” His tears and this 
speech affected her more than anything had pre- 
viously done, yet she did not consent to marry 
his friend. He noted this and said, as she 
started to leave him: ‘‘Remember to come here 
again, this evening one week, else I will go to 
the mansion to see my child, and this, per- 
haps, would lead to my discovery, and cause 
me yet to be swung,” and he sobbed and cried 
aloud. 

“I’ll come back,” said she, “but wish you 
would allow me to write and tell Mr. Lewis 
your troubles. I believe he could find some 


MARGOLEEN. 


169 


way to release you, provided you reform your 
life.” 

‘‘No, no,” he answered almost savagely, ‘‘you 
shall tell no one, if you do I’ll kill myself. 
Benton Percy is the only man who can save me. 
Marry him and your father is restored.” 

The bell for supper was ringing when she 
came back into the yard, and running upstairs 
she hurriedly washed her tear-stained face and 
went into the dining-room, where Mrs. Lewis 
and the heiress, who had preceded her, were in 
most flattering terms speaking of the now all 
important Mr. Percy. 

‘‘Benton is surely the best hearted boy on 
earth,” said his aunt, ‘‘I really get vexed with 
him at times for persisting in answering all the 
old widow’s calls for help, whether he knows 
them to be really in need or not.” 

‘‘I admire your nephew very much,” replied 
her hostess, ‘‘am convinced that he has a kind 
heart; I saw him down at the city, a few days 
since, give an old beggar man not only a five 
dollar bill, but also take him into a store and 
buy him a new coat. The old fellow smiled and 
thanked him repeatedly, and your nephew turned 
to me and said, ‘ ’Tis our duty to help the poor, 
Mrs. Lewis, and I’m sure we are happier to do 
so. ’ His action inspired me to follow his exam- 


170 MARGOLEEN. 


pie, and I ran after the old man and gave him a 
dollar myself.” 

“Yes, that is just like him, to give a handful 
at once. I’ve no doubt that he has given thous- 
ands of dollars to the poor.” 

Margoleen heard all this, but ate her supper 
in silence, or rather sipped her coffee. Her 
mind was so fraught with trouble she could not 
eat, but pushed aside the delicious batter-cakes, 
and upon the plea of headache went early to her 
room. However, she did not go to bed until 
late, but after extinguishing her light, sat down 
by the open window, and for hours rumiuated 
upon the event of the evening. 

“Is it possible that I am the offspring of this 
— I will say parent — as I cannot believe my 
mother other than purity. She must have mis- 
taken a mean man for a good one, and married 
him without knowing his real character. Oh! 
horrid fate! May I never be thus beguiled. 
But why need I speculate upon the subject of 
myself marrying ? I shall never marry. It is 
as my profligate father says, the man I love 
cares nothing for me other than to do his duty 
as my guardian, and now that it comes to light 
that I am descended from vulgar lineage, the 
faint hope that I would sometime win him, is 
forever destroyed. ” “Perhaps you could keep 


MARGOLEtfN. 


171 


this barrier from his knowledge,” whispered 
hope. “No, no, I love him too well to blindly 
lead him; and I am not at liberty to tell him the 
history of my parents. I am now beginning to 
again feel that I have no right to impose upon 
his kindness longer, yet — Oh! I cannot leave 
dear Cuthbert yet. Everything here, his dog, 
his horse, even the inanimate objects, associates 
me with my loved one. I must stay here awhile 
yet; in the meantime, I shall endeavor to turn 
my father’s footsteps into the paths of sobriety. 
This I feel to be my duty. As he now is, I 
would die before I would consent to live with 
him, either in hut or in palace; he must reform. 
I shall soon try to get me a situation to teach 
school, though I promised my guardian never to 
mention this again. I shall not mention it to 
him, yet necessity compels me to make my own 
living, and I know I can teach.” 

Thus decided, she at last retired for the night. 
During the ensuing week the days came and 
went without much variation. Benton Percy 
had called, and upon two different occasions, 
again pressed his suit, while his aunt had been 
duly informed both in regard to her repeated re- 
fusal to become his wife, and also his meetings 
in the guise of her father. 

“Don’t give her up, Benton,” was her advice 


172 


MARGOLEEN. 


to him, “dog her steps. It has, so far, been 
just as I expected it would; you’ll see that she 
will come around all right, only a little time and 
perseverance on your part is required.” 

“Don’t you believe that I will leave the trap 
just as the game is about to enter; I could see 
that my tears and sobs affected her more than all 
else, and be assured that when we next meet in 
the mill-house, her old dad will bring forth such 
tears, sobs and appeals as will rend her heart 
terrifically.” 

“You are right, that will affect her more than 
threats; her heart is tender in the extreme, and 
you are clear-sighted enough to understand that 
this is the only channel through which we can 
reach her.” 

“At the mill-house again to-morrow evening, 
as her pretended father; the next day, as Mr. 
Benton Percy, are the notes on my card,” said 
he, consulting a piece of paper he held in his 
hand. “Confound it, if my engagements ar’nt 
getting so numerous as to keep me shifting to 
keep up with them, and I’ll assure I’m inter- 
ested. But say, auntie, give me a lift. I’m 
quite dry, haven’t had a dram to. day, not a red 
to buy it with, and you know a fellow needs a 
stimulant under all this excitement; it helps his 
courage. ’ ’ 


MARGOLEEN. 


173 


“Uower your voice a little, please, or we 
might get ourselves iuto trouble. Here are fifty 
dollars, you need some money for board and 
other expenses, but for goodness sake don’t drink 
so much as to make you incapable of carrying 
out our scheme; and remember, never come in 
your own name with your breath scented with 
whiskey.” 

“Don’t be uneasy; I’ll be straight when neces- 
sary,” and he left her presence. 

At their next meeting (as her father) he acted 
his part to perfection, exciting her sympathy so 
much as to evoke not onty kind words from her, 
but she even kissed his false brow, and said: 
“Dear unfortunate father, I do indeed pity you, 
and if you will try to lead the life of a Christian 
I will from this day on, claim you as my father, 
and do all that my conscience will allow me to 
do to make you happy. Yes, I will leave this 
place, get me a school, and work for you the re- 
mainder of my life.” 

“And will you marry my friend?” 

“I cannot; I do not love him.” 

“You will love him in time.” 

“I fear not.” 

“Margoleen, the day you marry Benton Percy 
I am a changed man. Upon no other terms will 
I give up my dram; you have it in your power 


174 


MARGOLEEN. 


to save or damn your father’s soul; which will 
you do? Oh! my child, save me! save me! I 
don’t want to be lost!” and he cried so pitifully 
that a less tender heart than her’s would have 
been moved. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

“I must now go,” said she, ‘‘but I will see 
you again. I pray you consider what a sacrifice 
you ask, when you wish me to marry a man 
without giving him my heart. Remember also 
that in giving him an empty casket, I would do 
him a great wrong, which I fear would never be 
forgiven me.” 

The following morning Mrs. Lewis called her 
to her room, and closing the door, said, ‘‘Margo- 
leen, feeling it my duty to advise you, I wish to 
speak upon a subject that greatly concerns your 
welfare.” 

‘‘Certainly, Mrs. Lewis, I’m all attention.” 

‘‘Well, I hoped ere this to have taken you to' 
where you could see more of the world than 
Cuthbert and its vicinity, visited some fashiona- 
ble resorts at least, yet as things have so far 
turned out, I expect it is all the better for you to 
have remained at home, since you have unboubt- 
edly been the most fortunate girl I know of, to 


MARGOLEEN. 


175 


have received such marked attention from so 
many nice gentlemen. There is one in particular 
whom I consider the nicest young man I have 
ever known, and that is Mr. Percy. He is all 
that is required of a gentleman, so kind to 
everyone; he is able to keep you in grand style, 
and I wish you and he would marry, Margoleen. 
I know it would please my son to see his little 
ward married to such a man.” 

‘‘How do you know that Mr. Percy wishes me 
to marry him?” 

‘‘He has told me as much, and I don’t think 
I ever saw a man more devoted to a woman than 
he is to you.” 

‘‘And do you really thinks he loves me, Mrs. 
L,ewis?” she questioned with earnestness. 

‘‘Did I not just tell you I am convinced of his 
sincerity; and I repeat, he will make you a most 
noble husband. ’ ’ 

‘‘I do not love him, and would not be so igno- 
minious as to deceive him.” 

‘‘You could not help but love him after mar- 
riage; through kindness he would teach you to 
love him; he undoubtedly loves you well enough, 
and ‘love begets love’ you know.” 

‘‘I don’t think I could marry a man unless I 
first loved him.” 

“My advice to you is this, consider the matter 


176 


MARGOLEEN. 


well before you reject Benton Percy, for he is 
most worthy, and you would not* only make a 
heaven for yourself by accepting him, but also 
please your friends. I don’t mean to dictate, 
understand me, but merely suggest, that you 
may be cautious in your decision.” 

Everything calculated to move her in his favor 
was argued, yet she left Mrs. Eewis in obduracy. 
Some days later Margoleen received a letter, and 
although the cliirography was unusually cramped 
and the language deviating, yet its foreign post- 
mark, and the name of her guardian inscribed 
at the bottom of its pages, caused her heart to 
throb with delight, and all unconscious of the 
cruel design of her enemies, her hungry heart 
devoured the contents of the letter, which read 
as follows: 

My Dear Ward: 

With great pleasure, I write to congratulate you on your 
good taste in selecting so worthy a gentleman as Mr. Benton 
Percy for your husband. I learn that you are engaged to be 
married to him; be assured that your decision gives me 
pleasure, and that you shall not go to him empty handed, as 
I shall settle a reasonable amount of money upon you. Teli 
my mother to order your trousseau at once, and your wed- 
ding shall be a grand affair. I cannot come home for a time, 
as I am somewhat interested in a young widow out here, 
whom I would like to bring back with me as mistress of 
Cuthbert, yet I prefer you to keep this confidential, Margo- 
leen. Let no one read this letter,, but burp it; you know 


MARGOLEEN. 


177 


yourself how people are who are in love, haven’t really sense 
enough to write. Again congratulating you on your good 
fortune, I remain, Your guardian, 

Ethan Lewis. 

vShe crumpled the letter in her hand, while 
for a time, in solemnity, her eyes sought the 
ceiling of her room, and she deeply pondered 
her guardian’s expressed sentiment. A dark 
cloud now overshadowed the sweet hope and 
sunny feelings which a few moments before 
hovered around her imagination. When she 
first broke the seal and noted the signature of 
her heart’s idol, she was at once enraptured with 
delight, and before reading the contents, she 
kissed and pressed it to her bosom as a rose, 
unconscious that it was encircled with sharp and 
pricking thorns, which were to inflict a deep, deep 
wound. Alas! how soon was she taught by 
these words that she had misplaced her affec- 
tions. 

“This is evidence enough that he loves not 
me, poor, insignificant plebian; have I indeed 
been silly enough to suppose that he would ever 
be likely to waste a serious thought upon me? 
This letter stamps the knowledge upon my heart 
that I must force my feelings to submit to a 
course of wholesome discipline, and remember 
that my pleasures w T ere derived from the occa- 


178 


MARGOLEEN. 


sional tokens of preference bestowed by a man 
of character upon a poor girl of obscure lineage; 
God help me to forget him,” she prayed, as she 
faced the stern reality of her position. 

A few nights after this she sat in her room, 
wandering how to proceed to get a situation to 
teach, when she heard a gentle tap at the door. 
‘‘Come in,” said she, when to her amazement 
the door was quickly pushed open, and in came 
the vagabond who claimed to be her father. 

Instantly he locked the door, and turning to 
her who now stood pale with fear, said, ‘ ‘I w r anted 
to see my child here, the place she calls home, 
so I slipped up way of the side entrance, hid in 
the hall, and watched my chances to get in here. 
Don’t be scared, Margoleen, if w r e hear anyone 
coming you can hide me among some of these 
fine hangings (pointing to the portieres).” 

‘‘I greatly fear you will be detected.” 

“Maybe not, you are my child and I’ll see you 
when I choose. You need not raise objections 
as to when or where; I’m cornin’ occasionally. 
Don’t much care what becomes of me; you don’t 
love me well enough to save my soul from 
hell.” 

“Don 7 talk so, I told you if you would reform 
your life I would do everything possible to make 
you happy.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


179 


“I’m only waiting to see what you are going 
to do,” said he. 

“Hush! some one is coming, do hurry and 
leave or you will be detected.” She opened the 
door and looking out, decided there was no one 
near, and said, “You had best go now, father, 
the house will soon be locked for the night.” 

He obeyed, while she wrung her hands in 
agony for fear he would be discovered. From 
this time on, he occasionally stole into her room, 
causing her great annoyance, and often she was 
compelled to meet him in the mill-house. So 
violent were his threats and pitiful his appeals, 
her life was now one round of trouble. Hence, 
when Mr. Percy next requested her presence in 
the parlor, after kneeling at her feet and implor- 
ing her to marry him, she asked the question, 
“Mr. Percy, would you indeed marry a woman 
who does not love you?” 

He very accurately determined her cause for 
asking this question and replied, “Margoleen, I 
love you so well I would marry you and trust to 
time for a reciprocation of my undying affection. 
O! will you not give me this hand (taking her 
hand in his). I will be so constant and true 
you will not fail to love me in return. Crown 
my life with happiness this night by promising 
to become my wife.” 


180 


MARGOLEEN. 


“Why not grant his request,” whispered fate, 
“you have no hope of your own love being 
returned, and we are told that there is more real 
happiness in causing others to rejoice than in 
indulging our own desires. He says he is will- 
ing to accept my hand without my heart, and I 
have been frequently told that if united to a good 
man, love will come after marriage; he surely 
has the reputation of being worthy. Not only 
my unfortunate father, but also Mrs. Lewis and 
my guardian commend him, and it might save 
my sinful father’s soul.” 

Actuated by these thoughts, she said, “Mr. 
Percy, if you are willing to take my hand without 
my heart, I will marry you and try to do my 
duty as a wife. But remember, I do not love 
you as I think a woman should love the man 
she calls husband.” 

“Thank you, my darling. O! how happy you 
have made me this night, and how earnestly will 
I strive to win your whole heart; yet I am not 
content until you name an early day for our 
wedding.” 

“We had best wait until my guardian comes 
home to set the time.” 

“No, I cannot consent to that; he may be 
absent quite a long time. Suppose we marry 
next month?” 


Margoleen. 


isi 


“O, that would be entirely too early. ” 

“Six weeks is long enough to make all prepar- 
ations, Margoleen.” 

“Very well.” 

“So in six weeks from this day, which will 
be the fifth of October, you promise to become 
my wife?” 

“I do.” 

And he sealed their engagement by placing a 
diamond ring upon her finger. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

The ladies of the house were delighted at the 
news of the engagement, and gave them their 
richest blessing. The wedding trousseau was 
eagerly planned, and never before were orders 
dispatched in such haste. 

Mrs. Eewis, this time without consulting her 
friend, wrote her son word to come home, as his 
ward was, in a few weeks, to be married to the 
very best catch in the country. “I never saw a 
couple more suited or devoted,” she wrote; so 
enthusiastic was she at the prospect of having 
Benton Percy in the family, that she really forgot 
to mention the name of the groom elect, and 
Ethan, considering Waller Montgomery the 
most worthy gentleman of their acquaintance, 


182 


MARGOLEEN. 


also remembering the conversation between him- 
self and Margoleeu, which caused him (Ethan) 
to so abruptly leave home, naturally thought his 
friend the favored one. His first thought was, 
“I cannot go; I cannot see her marry another 
man, even though he be my dear friend; I shall 
write and say it will be impossible for me to be 
present on the occasion of the marriage, yet they 
have my approval and very best wishes.” 

So he answered the letter to this effect, which 
was quite gratifyingto Percy and his accomplice, 
as they much preferred Ethan’s absence until 
after the marriage knot was securely tied. Mrs. 
Lewis, having received from her son a check for 
as much money as could possibly be necessary, 
was at her zenith of pleasure purchasing and 
planning for the occasion. 

Several days elapsed after Ethan had answered 
his mother’s letter, when a longing seized him 
to once more behold his ward the happy maiden 
that he left her, unfettered by the bondage of 
marriage law. So potent was this desire that, 
regardless of his answer to his mother, he packed 
his valise and turned his steps homeward. ‘‘I 
shall take them by surprise,” said he, “as they 
will not be expecting me after reading my 
letter.” So he boarded the train, took his seat 
by an open window in the smoking car, lit a 


MARGOLEEN. 


183 


cigar, and watching the trees and prominent 
objects in hurried flight go by, wondered why 
it was that his friend had himself failed to write 
him something in regard to his engagement to 
his ward. “He surely should have written; it 
is not like him to treat me thus,” he ruminated. 
“Perhaps he understands the true state of my 
feelings towards her, and gentle and kind as he 
is, thinks to say as little about it as possible. 
He would, perhaps, help me to bear my sorrow.” 
However, he was soon at home, and found, to 
his great astonishment, that instead of Waller 
Montgomery, Benton Percy was to be the bride- 
groom. He had not been favorably impressed 
with Percy from the first night of his acquaint- 
ance, and was very much inclined to raise his 
voice in opposition, yet he could bring no espe- 
cial charge against him, and if he was Margo- 
leen’s choice, why complain ? Pie did not believe 
in matchmaking, consequently decided to resign 
his preference for his friend and bury his own 
trouble as best he could. Margoleen, appar- 
ently, was as happy as the occasion demanded, 
yet she had grown so thin and pale since Ethan 
last saw her, that at first he was quite shocked. 
However, her feigned cheerfulness caused him 
to consider her decline the effect of excitement. 
“She certainly loves her intended, and speaks 


184 


MARGOLEEN. 


of him as if he was the approved of the world,” 
thought he, “and I ought not to envy their hap- 
piness.” 

A few days after his return to Cuthbert, Miss 
Clifton one evening remarked in his presence, 
that she would like to take a walk in the orchard. 
“I want some good apples,” said she, “and 
prefer to go myself for them, as I’m sure a walk 
would do me good, after having been closely 
housed all the week.” 

“Where are motherandMargoleen?” he asked. 

“They are upstairs busy sewing, I believe.” 

“Well, get your hat, while I go for a basket, 
and we will go.” 

Together they strolled among the trees, the 
heiress designedly leading him in the direction 
of the mill-house, until finally, when in full 
view of its door, she said, “Let us rest, here is 
a nice place,” seating herself upon the trunk of 
an uprooted apple tree that now lay prone upon 
the ground. 

It was now growing quite late, and as they 
sat talking about the wedding, Ethan saw the 
form of a woman come out of the door of the 
deserted house, and without raising her head to 
notice their presence, walk right by them and 
on towards the mansion. He did not discover 
that it was his ward, however, as she wore a 


MARGOLEEN. 


185 


sun-bonnet pulled down over her face, and it 
was now about dusk, until his companion said 
to him, “Isn’t that Margoleen?” 

He looked again to be assured that it was 
indeed no other than she, who, unconscious of 
their presence, hurried by. 

Just then they arose from their seats to start, 
when, touching his arm, his companion excitedly 
exclaimed, “Look! Mr. Lewis, see that man 
climbing out the mill-house window?” 

He turned to see a man leap from the desig- 
nated window to the ground, and flee. Impul- 
sively he started to run after him, yet the remem- 
brance that he was unarmed, and in company 
with a lady who clung persistently to his arm 
and implored him not to leave her, as it was so 
late she feared to be left alone, he abandoned 
the idea but determined to solve the mystery 
later. “Who on earth could that woman have 
been? I first thought it looked like Margoleen, 
but I am sure now that it was not she,” said the 
scheming hypocrite, yet her true object was ac- 
complished, a seed of mistrust was planted in 
his breast, though he had sufficient presence of 
mind to mislead his companion in regard to his 
supposition, and laughingly said, “that’s a good 
joke on Margoleen, to have mistaken that 
mulatto girl, whom I sometimes see passing 


186 


MARGOLEEN. 


through my plantation, for her; perhaps we had 
best not tell her of our mistake, though, as her 
mind is preoccupied now with other things, she 
has no ear for jokes,” noble soul that he was, 
although he was thoroughly convinced that it 
was she, he would not admit as much to Miss 
Clifton, who now felt that she had been unsuc- 
cessful in her attempt, since he refused to believe 
the womon in question to be his ward, knowing 
that she as the relative of Margoleen’s intended 
husband would be expected to expose her, 
thereby conflicting with her heart’s desire, 
which we understand is to get her married and 
safely out of the way, she decided she had best 
let him think as he would, and wait a more op- 
portune time to again try her game, when he 
could not fail to mistake her, and she herself 
would have some way to appear perfectly ignor- 
ant of the fact. 

That night when they arose from the supper 
table, Ethan slipped a note into Margoleen’s 
hand. As a precious morsel she deferred the 
sweet pleasure of reading it until she had gone 
to her room that night, when shutting herself 
within this sanctum, she read the astounding 
words that almost seared her brain: “I saw 
you come out of the old mill-house this evening. 
Also saw, a few moments later, a man climb 


MARGOLEEN. 


187 


from its window; Margoleen, explain to me 
what this means.” 

“Oh! what shall I do?” she groaned in dis- 
tress. ‘‘I can not tell him, and by my refusing 
to do so, what will he think of me?” All night 
she cried and bemoaned her fate, and the follow- 
ing morning her sad face smote his heart as she 
handed him the reply to his note. 

“Believe me not guilty of wrong,” she wrote, 
“yet I can not explain the cause of my visit to 
the mill-house; believe me innocent, and ques- 
tion me no more in regard to the matter,” was 
all she could say. 

“It appears quite strange that she refuses to 
explain, yet I cannot believe her other than 
purity; her face shows that she speaks the 
truth,” and he tried to dispel the thought from 
his mind of her being anything save a pure, 
sweet girl, who, perhaps, had some good reason 
for not telling him her secret. Yet, the subject 
was not so easily forgotten, for it was only a 
few nights after this, Miss Clifton asked him to 
come upstairs and examine her call bell, that by 
some means had gotten out of repair, when on 
his way down he saw a man steal out of Margo- 
leen’s room and flee down the side entrance out 
into the dark. He could control himself no 
longer, but after a fruitless chase in the black- 


188 


MARGOLfcEN. 


ness of the night, he, without mentioning the 
fact to anyone, went back to Margoleen’s door 
and demanded her to open it; she did so, and 
stood trembling like a culprit before him. “You 
know what brought me here, Margoleen,” said 
he, closing the door, and standing with his back 
against it as he continued, “I command you to 
tell me who the man was that left this room a 
few moments since?” 

“I cannot, oh! I cannot! Be merciful and ask 
me no more; some day all will be explained to 
you, and then instead of censuring, you will 
pity my position at this hour; until then my lips 
are sealed. I will tell you no more. I am soon 
to leave your house, until then pray leave me in 
peace.” And she now sobbed convulsively, 
while he left her presence believing that she, 
like many of her sex, was deceitful, yea, false; 
nevertheless, he locked what he termed her im- 
prudence in his own bosom, and decided to re- 
main and see her married, thinking, perhaps, 
she was better suited, after all, to be the wife of 
Benton Percy than the wife of his noble friend. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

The fifth of October dawned a dark, bluster- 
ing day. Deep toned thunder rolled along the 


MARGOLEEN. 


189 


vaulted sky, and fiery darts of lightning flashed 
upon the earth. 

Many of her friends who were invited to wit- 
ness the marriage remained at home, fearing to 
risk the inclemency of the weather. However, 
the wild commotion of the elements did not de- 
ter the purpose of the treacherous fiend, for de- 
spite the storm, a closed carriage, drawn by two 
prancing black steeds, halted at Cuthbert, when 
out stepped the bridegroom and his attendants, 
in wedding attire. Aunt Silvie, who with her 
chin propped upon her hand, was meditatively 
gazing into the embers cf the kitchen fireplace, 
when Tricksy came to her, crying, as if a funeral 
was in procession. “Don’t cry, chile,” said the 
sympathetic old darkey, “God will take keer ob 
dat pore innocent gurl, but if I war Mars Ethan 
I’d be ’shamed to let dat skylarky take her off 
sich a day ’s dis; Missus says dey will be in a 
a buggy wid curtains and storm robes, but 
pshaw! I wouldn’t let her go in dis weather; he 
mought wait a .spell. It do ’pear to me dat 
Miss Ira and dat honey ob her’s (alluding to 
the heiress) will both go distracted to git her 
married to dat man, but pore chile, I’m ’feared 
she’ll rue de day she sot eyes on him.” 

“Ethan’s coolness toward Margoleen, since 
the episode of a few nights previous, had stung 


190 


MARGOLEEN. 


her sensitive nature and heightened her self- 
respect. 

“He has no confidence in me,” thought she, 
“else he would have believed me when I plead 
my unintention of wrong, and assured him tha t 
time would vindicate me.” So but few words 
passed between them, until, like a lamb before 
its shearer, she was led to the hymeneal altar 
and made the lawful wife of Benton Percy. 

After the ceremony was over, Ethan called 
her aside, and offering her a check for $3,000, 
said, “there is a bridal present from me, Margo- 
leen; it will buy you a comfortable home.” 

Tears that had been so difficult to keep back, 
now flowed from her eyes, as she said, “thank 
you, Mr. Eewis; I decline to accept any more 
favors from you, since I fear I have already 
been mistaken in receiving so much from }?our 
hands. I shall ever remember your former 
kindness to me, and trust some day to be able 
to repay you.” 

“You will act sensible to accept this check, 
Margoleen.” 

“/ will not !'' 1 and, wiping her eyes, she turned 
and left him quite astonished at her refusal. A 
few moments later, however, her husband came 
out in search of his hat, when Ethan said to 
him: “Here, Percjq is a chqqk for $3,909, 


MARGOLEEN. 


191 


which my ward, upon some trivial plea, refuses 
to accept.” 

The proffered check was instantly whisked 
into his pocket, and in great haste he thanked 
the donor. 

The master of Cuthbert remained at home 
while his mother and Miss Clifton accompanied 
them as far as New York on their bridal tour. 
After remaining with them they decided to re- 
turn to their respective homes, leaving them to 
spend their honeymoon in that city. 

After the first three weeks, Benton was so par- 
ticularly attentive and kind that his wife really 
began to feel that perhaps her advisers were 
correct in saying that love would come after 
marriage. “I may in time learn to love him; at 
any rate I shall try with my whole heart to 
return his affection.” 

Beguiled by his hypocrisy, her life for a short 
time, if not happy, w r as at least content, until 
the last week of their sojourn the tables began 
to turn. Repeatedly her husband came in with 
red, swollen eyes and fetid breath, that plainly 
showed him to have been drinking. The knowl- 
edge of this fact distressed her greatly, though 
she did not complain, until finally one day he 
came reeling into the room and said, “Margo- 
leen, hie, pack, hie, our trunks and hie, let’s go 


192 


MARGOLEEN. 


home! They’ll get the last red cent, hie, I’ve 
got, if I stay here much longer.” 

Without remonstrance she got him to lie down 
as quickly as possible. In drunken slumber he 
soon snored loudly, while she proceeded to obey 
orders and make ready for their departure. He 
had told her so much about their pretty home 
that she longed to see it, and also realized that 
it would perhaps be best to go away from the 
luring vice of others, and the dissipation so pre- 
valent in cities, that the temptation might be 
less. Hence, when he awoke, apparently much 
sobered, she said to him, ‘‘Well, I have our 
belongings in readiness to go to our home to- 
morrow. ’ ’ 

‘‘Did I tell you to get ready to leave here?” he 
demanded. 

‘‘You certainly did, and I’m real glad to go.” 

‘‘Where to, Madam Percy?” 

‘‘To our home, to be sure.” 

A contemptuous smile played about his mouth 
as he answered, with slang, ‘‘All right, old gal, 
■we will go in the morning.” 

The following morning they started, and after 
a journey of three days duration, the cars stopped 
at a little railway station, when taking her by 
the arm he said, ‘‘Well, we get off here; let’s 
get out before the passengers cro\y<i ’ ’ 


MARGOLEEN. 


193 


Glad to end the tedious ride, she followed him 
out upou the platform, where she was expecting 
to be met, and conveyed to a lovely home, by 
private conveyance belonging to her liege lord, 
but instead of this, he did not so much as hail a 
cab, but took her hand satchel and starting afoot 
along the side of the railroad said to her, “This 
way, Margoleen, we will just walk up; it is not 
very far.” 

In silent wonder she walked behind him, when 
to her amazement, he took her into an old dilap- 
idated car that had been abandoned by the rail- 
road company. Two boxes formed the tenement 
wherein a vulgar woman stood with bare, red 
arms, over a smoking tub of hot soap-suds, while 
at her feet tumbled three or four tangled-haired 
childred upon the floor. 

“Mother, this is my wife,” said he to the 
woman washing. 

Margoleen was wondering if she herself was 
indeed awake or was she dreaming, when the 
woman in question turned upon them and said, 
“She’s a dainty piece to bring to such quarters 
as these, besides I have my hands more than 
full to feed these little ones without keeping you 
and your fine lady up. I can’t get much wash- 
ing to do now, and you know it is all the means 
of support I have. You never was no help to 


194 


MARGOLEEN. 


me nor never will be, so I would rather you 
would take yourself off at once.” 

Margoleen could stand no more, but fainted 
at her feet. They raised her up, placed her 
upon the rude bed, and while for a few moments 
she lay unconscious, he drew several bills from 
his pocked, handed them to his mother, and 
said, “Be quiet, let us stay with you for a few 
days. To-morrow I will look about and get us 
a home. She’ll be a fortune to you and me, for 
she has one to back her who has the proper 
stuff. So don’t fret any more; you see she can’t 
stand it; get to work and help me restore her; 
cook us a good supper, and I think by morning 
she will be all right.” 

The poor thing was almost crazed with disap- 
pointment, yet the restoratives used soon revived 
her. That night, however, she did not sleep at 
all, but cried and prayed alternately. The next 
day he left her in the care of his mother for a 
time, but was not long absent until he returned 
to inform her that he had purchased them a 
home. 

“Why did you deceive me by telling me you 
already had a nice home to take me to?” and 
the thought of her guardian’s words, “It will 
buy you a home,” when he offered her the check 
fcr $3,000, came into her mind. 


MARGOLEEN. 


195 


“All is fair in love and war, you know; I 
feared to tell you I was poor; are you going to 
love me less that I have no property?” 

“No, but you did wrong to deceive me.” 

He conveyed her to a cottage of three rooms, 
her eyes were red with weeping, yet she set to 
work to make their home look as comfortable as 
possible, and tried to accept her fate with the 
hope that she would at least reform the life of 
her sinful father, who had told her, at their last 
meeting, that he would join them when they 
were settled in their new home. She had thought 
strange that as such a dear friend of her father, 
why it was her husband had never spoken to her 
of him, but was content to believe that he rather 
preferred to wait awhile before the third party 
should share his alleged happiness. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

As months elapsed, Margoleen’s troubles in- 
creased; instead of learning to love her husband, 
his profanity and tyrannical disposition drove 
her heart further and further from him, yet her 
allegiance as his wife caused her to bear for a 
long time the many cruel contests to which he 
subjected her, for now that he had her safely in 
his foils, he unsheathed himself to come forth 


196 


MARGOLEEN. 


the true demon that he was. She was now only 
eighteen years of age, a mere unsophisticated 
child, and knew not how to release herself from 
this yoke of bondage. At times she was tempted 
to leave him, but no, this would put her name 
in the mouth of the public, and this she did not 
feel that she could stand, and so she lived on, 
praying morning, noon and night to God to 
release her by death from the man whose touch 
was now repulsive, and presence loathsome to 
her. 

Yet, for some wise purpose, she was spared to 
be abused. Often he came home drinking, and 
cursed her because she would not ask her guar- 
dian for more money. The $3,000, whose receipt 
had been kept a secret from her until it was well 
nigh squandered by his profligacy, was now 
entirely gone, and many were the times he had 
tried to coerce her to write and solicit more. 
“You will have it to do or starve,” he would 
sometimes argue. 

“I would prefer to starve, rather than to ask 
him for money.” 

“You will get over your d — d high notions 
and come round all right I dare say. ’ ’ 

Then he would taunt her with not loving him 
as a wife should love her husband. More than 
once he went into another room, fired his pistol 


Margoleen. 


197 


and fell heavily upon the floor, to make her 
think he had shot himself and thereby arouse 
her sympathy and gain his desire. The first 
time he did this the poor girl almost sank with 
grief, and was tempted to take her own life, so 
sad was she at the thought of causing him to 
commit suicide. She did not think of his so 
ignominiously deceiving her, and springing to 
his side was about to tell him she would do as 
he washed if he would only live, when, to her 
astonishment, she found that he was only taking 
this means to make her yield to his desire to call 
on her guardian for money. Yet his base 
attempt only served to heighten her obduracy, 
and when he next resorted to this means she was 
the more invincible, until finally he became so 
much enraged at her as to take every means to 
make her life as wretched as possible, often 
leaving her as long as two or three days without 
food or fire. She was too proud to murmur her 
distresses to others, consequently suffered from 
cold and hunger. With the exception of one 
letter from Mrs. Lewis, she had never heard from 
her friends, and this, under the existing circum- 
stances, she was too proud to answer. 

“I want you and your husband to make us a 
visit, soon,” ran the specified letter, ‘‘I am 
quite lonely, now; my son seems to grow, every 


198 


MARGOLEEN. 


day he lives, more and more averse to the soci- 
ety of ladies; really, I fear he is a confirmed 
bachelor. Blanche came back and spent a 
couple of months with me, but she has gone 
home and I don’t know how to content my- 
self. 

I would go abroad but my health has declined 
very much since you left; in fact, I’m now com- 
pelled to stay in my room a great deal. I don’t 
know any news to write, only that Mrs. Moor- 
leigh, our housekeeper, a few weeks since, was 
quietly married to an old farmer near here, and 
is comfortably settled in her new home. His 
name is Jonathan Bradley, and he is not only a 
nice, clever old man, but has ample means to 
live upon. I am glad she has done well, but, 
oh my! you don’t know how much I miss her; 
things don’t go on here as they did before she 
left, yet Aunt Silvie and I do surprisingly well 
to have so much responsibility left upon us, and 
my health delicate. Tricksy is crazy for you to 
come home on a visit, and says she wants her 
master to let her go back with you when you 
come. 

I suppose you are so happy in your new home 
that you never think of your dear friends; is 
that the reason you never write? Yet, you must 
not get to be selfish; remember, we would love 


MARGOLEEN. 


199 


to hear from you, at least occasionally. With 
love to yourself and husband, I remain, 

Yours, affectionately, Ira Tewis.” 

This letter she wore in her bosom. It was 
the only tidings she had received from her 
friends since she left, yet she did not answer it. 
She had been cruelly deceived in her husband, 
but would not dare to go to her benefactor for 
sympathy, she was too proud for this. He had 
turned a deaf ear to her appeals for mercy when 
she was persecuted in his own home, she would 
not solicit his confidence now. So she never 
wrote back at all, preferring to bear her troubles 
in silence. 

“It is so very strange that my father has not 
yet made his appearance, nor my husband men- 
tioned his name since we were married,” she 
soliloquized when alone one night, after she had 
eaten her scanty supper and was thinking of the 
man who claimed to be her father, when the 
door was pushed open and in walked the very 
individual of whom she was thinking. 

“Father!” she exclaimed, “is it indeed you?” 

“Yes, it is I, and you see I am here at last. 
Where is Benton? I want him to get me some 
whiskey; I'm awful dry. Stir yourself, old girl, 
and get me a good supper. ’ ’ 

“I cannot get you much supper; I have only 


200 


MARGOLEEN. 


a little bread in the house, and I have not seen 
my husband for three days.” 

“It’s a lie, madam.” 

“Come, father, behold your child who has 
been sacrificed for you; reform your life; do not 
my surroundings warn you of the great conces- 
sion on my part, to marry the man of your 
choice?” 

“Whose choice, Margoleeu?” 

“Yours, indeed, sir; the man before me who 
calls himself my father.” 

“And do you not really know who this man 
is?” 

“He has sworn to me that he is my father,” 
she replied. 

“Ha! ha!” laughed he, pulling off the grey 
beard and wig, also the garb of clothing that 
had hitherto disguised him, and standing erect 
before her, said: “You know me now, don’t 
you? Your husband and dad are one and the 
same; did you never suspect this? If not, you 
are certainly not a very close observer. When 
shall we meet in the mill-house again ? I could 
make any girl under the sun marry me if I set 
my head to do so; don’t you acknowledge your 
husband to be a shrewd fellow? Come! I’ve 
had enough of your airs; I mean to be obliged, 
and I want you to get to work and write to that 


MARGOLEEN. 


201 


old slink you call guardian, and ask him to set 
us up again. I’m run out, I tell you, got not a 
red cent, and am compelled to give up this 
house to-morrow; will you do it now without 
further argument? I’ve wasted a heap of breath 
on you; I say, will you write at once and ask 
him for some more money?” 

“I will not/” she said emphatically, ‘‘besides, 
I would have you understand that I consider 
you a brute in human shape.” 

‘‘Stop! Go no further, or I shall knock you 
down; you know not whom you are talking to,” 
he said, with anger gleaming in his eyes. 

‘‘I am no longer afraid of you, Benton Percy; 
you are a dirty villain, whose soul is blackened 
with sin.” 

He drew a chair to strike her, when frantic 
with grief she bared her breast and said, ‘‘kill 
me! kill me! I crave to die!” 

A strong blow felled her to the floor, where 
wounded and bleeding she lay unconscious until 
her persecutor, believing he had killed her, 
fled. Yet she was not seriously hurt, and when 
she arose to find that she was left alone, she 
washed the blood from her face and neck, and 
although quite faint, she gathered her most 
valuable articles together, which consisted of her 
engagement ring, a watch, and her mother’s 


MARGOLEEN. 


202 


picture, that she had worn around her neck since 
she could first remember, and which was now 
attached to the gold necklace given to her by 
Belle Seaton. Shuddering over the few coals of 
fire, she awaited the first ray of daylight, and 
going to a jeweler sold him the ring for fifty 
dollars. This enabled her to take the train and 
go a goodly distance. Her mind was so fraught 
with grief that she wss incapable of forming any 
definite plans for the future. She would not 
consent to go back to those who had been her 
friends; no, no, this she would never do, for 
although Cuthbert had been her happy home, it 
had also been a place of sorrow to her. 

“I will go by there,” she decided, “I must 
once more behold him (Ethan) before I die.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

The pale, haggard girl went back to the neigh- 
borhood of her old home, watched for an oppor- 
tunity, and without detection stole to the old 
mansion, peeped through the library window, 
and what did she behold there? Ah! yes it was 
indeed he, the idol of her heart, who with a 
stern and clouded brow, sat by a small table. 
His cheek rested against his hand, an open book 


MARGOLEEN. 


203 


lay beside him, yet his eyes seemed to penetrate 
the ceiling. 

The cold night wind lashed her scanty cloth- 
ing about her, yet the poor half;crazed thing 
kept her position at the window for some time, 
enjoying the sweet pleasure of studying his face 
without his knowledge. And shall we censure 
her for indulging in what some whited-sepulchers 
would term vice. No, w r e must remember that 
her life had, by an unkind interference, been 
sacrificed to a mistake, and before we explain 
that she believed this would be the very last time 
cn earth that she would ever see him, let us 
examine ourselves minutely. Self-righteousness 
is not religion, and a distinguished writer has 
said, “Conventionality is not morality.” Her 
marriage had been .stipulated by others who took 
advantage of her tender years and led her into 
trouble. “Vice and virtue are often confounded, 
appearance should not be mistaken for truth; 
narrow humane doctrine, that only tend to elate 
and magnify a few, should not be substituted for 
the world redeeming crown of Christ.” 

She meant no harm, and she left the window 
to flee without fear in the darkness, and reach 
the city in time to catch the train that was to 
carry her away — away from her beloved one. 
But for him refusing to have confidence in her 


204 


MARGOLEEN. 


when she had previously plead her innocence, 
she would have dared to go in and confess her 
mistake to him, yet the remembrance of his face 
when he coldly turned from her deep sorrow, 
chilled her heart and drove her in desperation 
from him. Her watch was now too sold, and 
she traveled on until at last her money was all 
gone, and the conductor, leaning over her 
shoulder, said, “You must get off, you have 
already gone farther than your ticket entitles 
you to ride.” 

She lowered her eyes, tucked her light wrap 
about her, and left the cars. It was now about 
five o’clock in the evening of a cool winter day, 
and she found herself in a large town without 
friends or one cent of money. She had parted 
with all she had, save the necklace and the 
locket that held her mother’s picture; these she 
felt that she could not give up, although she had 
tasted no food since noon the day before, when 
she had ventured into a restaurant and bought a 
sandwich. The previous night she had slept 
none, as she had left Cuthbert about nine o’clock 
and walked back to the city in time to catch the 
midnight train. She had rested her poor tired 
head against the cushioned back of the seat upon 
which she rode, and tried to sleep, yet the 
attempt was fruitless, since her mind was too 


MARGOLEEN. 


205 


much absorbed with her trip to Cuthbert. What 
to do she did not know; it seemed that her head 
would burst with pain. Finally she decided to 
go in at a house near by, and beg a cup of coffee 
and a night’s lodging. Accordingly she knocked 
gently at the door, and was met by a tall, blue- 
eyed lady, who asked haughtily, “What do you 
want here ?’’ 

“If you please, give me a cup of coffee and a 
night’s lodging. I’m sick and have no 
money.” 

“Indeed, no, all such as you should be driven 
out of the country. I don’t see how }^ou could 
have the face to enter decent people’s houses 
(viewing her suspiciously). Get out from here 
immediately,” and the door was ruthlessly shut 
in her face. 

Crushed, and too timid to try further, she crept 
into an old barn, and upon a bed of straw .shiv- 
ered the entire night, and when morning dawned 
she for a time was unable to arise. Overcome 
by hunger and cold, at last she fell into a deep 
sleep, that lasted until the next evening, when 
two little boys, on their way from school, set 
their dinner basket upon the sill of the open 
door, and began the following conversation: 

“Say, Dick, what will yer take for this here 
French-harp?” 


206 


MARGOLEEN. 


“I guess I’ll take a dime. I give a dime fur 
it, and taint hurt.” 

‘‘I’de say taint hurt,” was the reply, as plac- 
ing it to his mouth he again tried its capacity. 
“I’ll give yer five cents, its done had five cents 
worth blowed out of it already.” 

“No, I shant trade, less you’ll throw in that 
white allie you plumpt the middler so slick with 
this morning.” 

“All right, it’s a trade,” and as they pro- 
ceeded to exchange property, Margoleen, whose 
hungry eyes were now looking eagerly upon the 
basket, arose and asked: 

“kittle boys, won’t you give a poor woman, 
who is almost starving, something to eat from 
your basket?” 

So white and haggard she looked, that at first 
they thought her a ghost, and were tempted to 
run, but her kind voice reassured them so much 
as to excite sympathy, and proffering her the 
basket, one stood with his hands clasped behind 
him, the other in close proximity, whilst they 
watched her devour the one boiled egg and two 
half biscuits which was all that remained of their 
dinner. 

“Thank you, boys,” said she, “I will never 
forget your kindness, and now can you tell me 
where I can get a drink of water?” 


MARGOLEEN. 


207 


“You are much obliged,” said the would-be 
polite boys. 

“There is a spring just over the hill (pointing 
with his finger). Give me that cup out of the 
basket, Dick,” said one of her friends, “and I’ll 
fetch her some myself. ’ ’ 

“No, no, I perhaps can go to it.” She arose 
and started off, while the boys, feeling that their 
kindness to what they termed a runaway woman 
had almost amounted to heroism, went home 
and related the wonderful event to their parents, 
who, not so sympathetic as their innocent child- 
ren, thought best to go down to the barn and 
start the nuisance at once, yet when they got 
there, to their surprise, the object in question 
had, by the nourishing bite from the school 
basket, and the morning’s sleep, been enabled 
to move on in a direction she knew not whither. 
More than once had she gone in at houses and 
begged for work, but without ever being asked 
the cause of her misfortune, was always turned 
away, as a character to be spurned. 

Pity and justice are often withheld from the 
defenseless, and why the world is so much more 
cruel and unforgiving towards the gentler sex is 
a question unanswered. On and on she trudged, 
until away from this large town some three or 
four miles, night again came upon her, and not 


208 


MARGOLEEN. 


only was she threatened to be out in the dark, 
but also a heavy rain had begun to fall. Finally, 
realizing that she could see to go no farther in 
the pelting storm, she crouched behind some old 
boards and rubbish that lay slanting upon a 
fence, and prayed God to take her to that mother 
who ever provided a home for her, if not in 
grandeur at least in comfort. She had now been 
out three nights, but this was the most severe, 
and she less able to stand the cold wintry blast. 
When morning came she could not stand upon 
her feet, but looking out from her rude abode, 
she discovered that she was near a cabin, from 
which presently an old lady came out, and 
throwing a halter over the head of a little brindle 
cow, placed her stool and proceeded to milk. 
Span spat fell the milk into the tin vessel, when 
Margoleen felt that she must have a drink cf it 
or starve to death. Again and again she en- 
deavored to stand, but alas! she was too weak, 
her strength was gone, and crawling upon her 
hands and feet she managed to get near the 
woman and cry, “Give ine one drink of milk; 
I’m starving to death!” 

The woman looked round to behold the most 
pitiful object she had ever seen. Her hair, which 
necessity had compelled her to uncoil as a shield 
from the cold, hung in clotted masses over her 


MARGOLEEN. 


209 


shoulders; her face was almost as white as mar- 
ble, her eyes bloodshotten, her clothes muddy 
and drenched with rain. The heart of the old 
lady was instantly touched, and holding the 
bucket to the sufferer’s mouth she bade her drink 
her fill. Prone upon the ground she eagerly 
grasped the rim of the vessel, and like the starved 
thing that she was, continued to drink until the 
old lady feared she probably w T as doing wrong 
to let her have so much at once, and bade her 
quit. She did so, and thanking her time and 
again, at length cried, “O! I am so miserable! 
I am sick and have nowhere to lay my head.” 

She then fell back in a swoon, and the old 
lady called to her husband, excitedly, ‘‘Come 
here quick, Edwin, and help me carry this poor 
thing into the house.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Edwin Frazier stood just around the corner of 
the little yard, that was hedged in with newly 
rived pailing, calling pig-ew-ee to three or four 
well-fed shoats, when raising the slop-bucket to 
empty its contents into the trough, he was star- 
tled by the shrill voice of his wife demanding his 
aid instantly. 

The impolite swine, without regard for Uncle 
Edwin’s gray hairs, ran pell-mell towards the 


210 


MARGOLEEN. 


trough, thereby uptrippiug him, and spilling the 
buttermilk over his shoes. One long grunt from 
the good natured old man was his retaliation to 
his assailants. Picking himself up as quickly 
as possible, he left them to scramble over the 
bucket, and hurrying in the direction from which 
he heard his wife’s call, inquired, “What’s the 
matter, Katie?” 

“Kook, old man, at this poor creature. Ket’s 
get her indoors as quickly as we can; I fear she 
is already dead.” 

Raising her in his sinew arms, he carried her 
into the house and placed her upon a clean couch 
by the fire, while his good wife bathed her face 
and hands with camphor, and took off the wet, 
muddy slices that clung to her tin}' feet. Hour 
after hour the sympathetic people, who had no 
children of their own, nursed and tried to revive 
her; every attention that their humble circum- 
stances would permit was duly given her, and 
the next morning a little pink-faced baby was 
also dependent upon the charity of Uncle Edwin 
and Aunt Katie Frazier. 

When Margoleen first heard the voice of her 
child (although it was not the offspring of the 
man she loved) her heart instinctively responded 
to its cry. It is a mother only, that can realize 
the sacredness of the hour when the first cry of 


MARGOLEEN. 


211 


her infant awakens her to the fact that her 
Heavenly Father has intrusted it to her care, 
and at this moment she consecrates her life to 
the charge. Nor was this poor outcast an excep- 
tion to the rule. Although she had nothing 
upon earth, no home, no money, she felt that 
she must now live for her child’s sake; yea, she 
felt that she was no longer alone in the world. 
The father of the child had brutally treated her, 
yet she censured not this innocence with his 
misgivings, but loved it, and prayed that her 
life might be spared for its sake. Yet, alas, her 
motherhood was only of one day’s duration, 
for when the sun went down that evening, 
her infant’s life went back to the God who 
gave it. 

Uncle Edwin, who was a carpenter by trade, 
made a little pine casket, while Aunt Katie’s 
fingers, which had grown somewhat stiff from 
honest toil, busily plied her needle and thread 
until the little body was neatly arrayed for burial. 
Apparently, its mother lay unconscious of her 
loss, while the congenial old pair in solemnity 
placed it in its little grave beneath a spreading 
plum tree in the garden. 

“It seems a pity for it to die,” said Aunt 
Katie, on their way back to the house, “she had 
her heart set on it and I really thought she would 


212 


MARGOLEEN. 


get well, but as soon as she found that her child 
was dead, she just seemed to give up.” 

“Poor thing,” answered her husband, “she’s 
nothing more than a child herself, and Katie has 
it not occured to you that she looks like our dear 
daughter Mildred. Do you not remember that 
gleam of gratitude that shone in her eyes for any 
little office of kindness bestowed upon her; I say, 
Katie, have you forgotten that heavenly look of 
our darling?” 

“No, Edwin, and I’ll admit that this poor girl 
reminds me of her.” 

“Have you been able to find out anything 
about her?” 

“No, she has not so much as told me her 
name, yet time and again she has implored me 
to believe her innocent of wrong.” 

“I am pure yet unfortunate;' bear with me, and 
I will explain all when I’m able to talk,” was 
all she had said concerning herself. 

One morning, some six or seven weeks after- 
wards, Margoleen awoke from a long spell of 
fever that had well nigh put an end to her 
earthly troubles, and looking around the tidy 
little room, whose walls were coated with white- 
wash, and whose bare floor bespoke the cleanli- 
ness of its occupants, she said: “Aunt Katie, I 
feel so much better this morning, and why is it. 


Margoleen. 


213 


when I have prayed so earnestly to die, that I 
am still here? Is it because God really don’t 
want me?” 

“Hush! dear child, it is wicked to talk in this 
way; you should pray, ‘not my will, but Thine, 
be done,’ to your Father in Heaven, and he will 
never forsake you. Perhaps it is for a divine 
purpose he spares you, and you should thank 
him for permitting you to live through your 
troubles, that you may better prepare yourself 
for the blessed reward He has promised to those 
who obey Him.” 

“Oh! but my heart is broken, I’m alone in 
the world with nothing to live for.” 

“Indeed, you have plenty to live for. Re- 
member, this is a sinful world, and through your 
instrumentality, many souls might be brought to 
Christ; God loves a broken heart, but not a 
divided one. The Scriptures tell us that he is 
also a jealous God; perhaps you have loved 
someone else more than the Savior. We are not 
forbidden to love the things of this world, but 
this love must be subordinate to that One who 
created us. Our afflictions are sometimes sent 
for our instruction; Christ has no disciple that 
is not introduced into the school of affliction; I 
repeat, you should not pray to die, but bide 
God’s own time, and pray for a deeper sense of 


214 


MARGOLEEN. 


your own weakness, and a firmer reliance on 
His strength.” Aunt Katie was not to be con- 
sidered an educated woman, yet she was pos- 
sessed of the highest natural ability, and above 
all, was a sincere Christian. True piety elevates 
its possessor in the scale of being, exalts the 
feelings, dignifies the character, and sanctifies 
the heart; it provides a suitable relief in every 
trying state.” 

So this good old lady beautifully gilds our 
heroine’s afflictions with the enlivening beams 
of hope. The sun now shone in the midst of a 
shower, and imprinted on the gloomy firmament 
a rainbow of mercy, causing her to exclaim: 
“Dear, good soul! truly, you have led me to the 
feet of Jesus; I can now look back and see how 
I have allowed my heart to clamor more for my 
own material happiness than I have for the 
world’s benefit. Henceforth 1113^ life is dedi- 
cated to the good of others, I am now willing to 
accept my fate and murmur not at the all-wise 
providence of God. Come close to me, Aunt 
Katie; I want to hug you and then explain to 
you who I am and where I came from. You 
have been, oh! so kind to me, and ’tis just that 
you should know whom you have befriended.” 
Aunt Katie drew her chair close to the bed, and 
after allowing the thin, wasted arm to encircle 


margoleen. 


2 i 5 


her neck, soothingly took her hand in her’s and 
listened attentively while she related her sad 
history. “Poor, dear one,” answered the old 
lady, wiping the tears from her wrinkled face 
with the large bandanna handkerchief worn at 
her waist, ‘ ‘your lot has indeed been a hard one. ’ ’ 

“How long did you say you lived with this 
brutal man?” 

“Thirteen months.” 

“Well, I don’t see how you stood his treat- 
ment as long as you did. I’m not the one to 
separate man and wife, yet now that you are 
away from him, my advice to you is to remain 
so forever. Won’t you stay here along with me 
and the old man? We have no children, our 
only child died some three years since with that 
dread disease, consumption. She was not quite 
eighteen years of age, and was the joy of our 
lives. Since her death, Edwin and I are quite 
lonely at times; he’s out at work a great deal, 
and I have no one to stay with me when he’s 
gone. It would give us great pleasure to have 
you live with us; we have talked the matter over, 
he and I; we want you to fill the place or our 
darling Mildred.” 

Tears of gratitude flowed from Margoleen ’s 
eyas as she replied, “I would be only too glad, 
yet you have already shown me more kindness 


216 


MARGOLEEN. 


than I perhaps should accept from those who 
have to labor for maintenance, and no doubt I 
have been a great deal of expense to you.” 

“Well, we don’t regret doing what we con- 
sider our Christian duty. We own this little 
home, and are willing to divide our income, 
which I’ll admit is not very large. We are get- 
ting old, and need some one of younger years as 
a comfort to our old age. Will you consent to 
live with us?” 

“Upon conditions I will stay.” 

“What are the conditions?” 

“First, that you will allow me to work for you 
all I can.” 

“I don’t object to you helping me work,” she 
interrupted. 

“Second, j^ou must agree for me to w T ear an 
assumed name, as I don’t wish any clue to my 
existence known.” 

“I am willing to this. I don’t think you 
would be doing wrong to conceal yourself from 
that brute.” 

“Then my name henceforth must be Agnes 
Broke instead of Margoleen Melbroke. No one 
must know but what I am distantly related to 
you. I shall stay, dear Aunt Katie, and en- 
deavor to cause you not to regret your kindness 
to me.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


217 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

Eight years have washed the shores of time 
since Margoleen Melbroke so mysteriously en- 
tered the family of Edwin Frazier. To-day we 
behold them in her lovely home, that is situated 
upon a beautiful mountain, some three hundred 
feet above the common level of the earth, at the 
base of which nestles the old cabin of the Fra- 
ziers. Sometime since, through Margoleen’s 
earnest solicitation, it has been vacated, yet pre- 
served as a souvenir, and the old people dwell 
with their adopted child, who is now a famous 
authoress, and by her pen has accumulated a 
handsome fortune. The benevolence of this old 
couple, together with the beautiful scenery around 
their humble home, which we will describe as 
being situated at the foot of the mountain in the 
suburbs of a little railroad town, where factories 
and churches bespeak the industry and morality 
of its inhabitants, causing her heart to expand 
with new life; ambition stirred her to try to do 
something to compensate their kindness. “Write 
a book,” whispered a mysterious voice. “You, 
even you, might sow a seed to germinate, yea, 
blossom, in some depraved soul, and turn its 
steps towards Heaven.” Her troubles were 
alleviated by this longing which had begun to 
spring in her soul. In the evenings or mornings 


218 


MARGOLEEN. 


she loved to climb to the summit of this grand 
eminence, and look over upon the village that 
stretched out to full view. Nor did she fail to 
draw inspiration from this mound of natural 
beauty, the forest trees, the singing birds, the 
frisking squrrel, the bubbling spring that gushed 
from the ledge of rock and flowed abundantly 
adown its side, actuated her to write a story that 
as an unpretentious bark, she tremblingly sent 
out upon the ocean of life, but to return to her 
fraught with honor and wealth. The public 
knew not her real name, consequently her former 
acquaintances knew not that the now celebrated 
star of literature was the ill-used waif of Lowland 
Inn. 

She had never heard of her husband since 
the night she had fled from his cruel treatment, 
upon which occasion he sneaked back to the 
house to find that he had not, as he supposed, 
really killed her, yet he rejoiced that she was 
gone, leaving him free to seek other fields of 
gain. He was now convinced that she was in- 
exorable in regard to calling on her guardian for 
money, so without search or inquiry he went on 
his way rejoicing that he was rid of her; and now 
for a time we will leave her, Aunt Katie and 
Uncle Edwin together in their lovely mountain 
home, while we travel back to find what has 


MARGOLEEN. 


219 


become of the family at Cuthbert, including the 
heiress of Pine Grove. 

On the morning of Margoleen’s marriage, we 
remember, she left her guardian under a cloud 
of suspicion. When the wedding party had 
gone, he shut himself up with reflections such as 
render us misanthropic and disgusted with the 
world, corroded with disappointment against 
womankind, and for a time sought to drown his 
troubles in dissipation, though his recklessness 
never amounted to debauchery. 

Some two }^ears later Blanche Clifton was again 
on a visit to Cuthbert, using her most fascinating 
powers to ensnare its master into her foils; in 
fact we might term this last attempt as a life or 
death struggle, when one day a dispatch came 
summoning his presence to the death bed of a 
criminal, who was sentenced to be hanged on 
the following Friday, but whom God was allow- 
ing to pass from this world into the next without 
the disgraceful rope around his neck; so overcome 
was he at his sentence that he at once sank, and 
it was now an evident fact that death would claim 
the doomed man ere the appointed day for the 
gallows to claim its victim. Without mention- 
ing the cause of his departure, Ethan left his 
mother, who was now in most wretched health, 
in the hands of her favorite, and hurried on for 


220 


MARGOLEEN. 


a distance of about one hundred miles, wonder- 
ing all the while what the dying man wanted to 
tell him, as the message had stated that he must 
tell him before he entered the presence of his God. 

On entering the jail he was conducted to a cell 
where the poor wretch lay frantically screaming. 
“Bring me to Ethan Lewis, the master of Cuth- 
bert, I must tell him before I die,” he was plead- 
ing, when the jailor said, “Here is your man.” 

“Thank God,” was the reply. “Come close 
to me, Ethan Lewis, I w T ant to confess to you 
how I have wronged you and the innocent one 
whom you have so devotedly loved. ’ 5 

“Benton Percy!” he exclaimed, “is it you?” 

“Yes, it is I, who by the help of my villainous 
Aunt Blanche, have so steeped my soul in sin 
that I am at last doomed to be hanged, yet the 
sight of the gallows does not frighten me so much 
as the thought of dying without telling you the 
great wrong I have done you and the poor girl 
I married beneath your roof.” 

“Where is Margoleen?” demanded Ethan, 
pale with emotion. Is she dead? I say, vil- 
lain! have you killed her?” seizing the doomed 
man as if to put an end to his days at once, when 
the ghastly lips parted and said, “let me tell you 
my story, and then, oh! how glad I will be for 
you to kill me.” 


MARGOLEEN. 


221 


This speech arrested his violence, but he re- 
peated his inquiry, “I say, have you killed 
her?” 

“No, I have not killed her, though it would 
have been more merciful had I done so.” 

He begun at the first where his aunt had 
written him to come to the lawn party, and on 
that night planned the scheme for him to get 
Margoleen out of the way, gave a full and unre- 
served history of all their proceedings; how he 
had, in the disguise of her father, aroused her 
sympathy; told of the forged letter expressing 
his (Ethan’s) pleasure at the idea of her union 
with himself; and when she at last consented to 
become his wife, provided he would take her 
without her heart. “How well I understood to 
whom her heart belonged, and that for this same 
cause did she refuse the hand of Waller Mont- 
gomery ; she loved 5 7 ou, Ethan Eewis; her heart 
v/as truly yours, though she w 7 as made to believe 
that you cared nothing for her.” 

Ethan clinched his teeth; he saw that the 
man’s life was fast ebbing away, yet he could 
scarce refrain from stamping him into the floor, 
and it was only the remembrance that he had 
not yet told him w 7 here she was, that he stayed 
his hand. 

“Where is she? where is she?” he demanded. 


222 


MARGOLEEN. 


“I don’t know; indeed, I have not seen her 
since one year ago, to-night. I went home to 
her, disguised as her father, and finding that 
she was still deceived, I took off my disguise 
and showed her that her husband and supposed 
father v T ere one and the same. Oh! how T indig- 
nant she w T as, and when I again insisted that 
she should write to you for help, and taunted 
her with her vain love for you, she called me a 
dirty villain and dared me to do my worst; I 
struck her to the floor;” — here he gasped for 
breath and for some moments was apparently 
dead, until presently he revived enough to con- 
tinue — “yes, I felled her to the floor and thought 
for a time I had not only destroyed her life, but 
the life of my child also. I fled, but crept back 
to see her leave the house; she boarded a south- 
ern bound train, and I have never heard from 
her since. I have told you all, now, won’t you 
kill me? it would be a merciful act.” 

‘‘No, I will not kill you, though you deserve 
punishment; I leave you in the hands of the 
Almighty. ‘I will avenge, saith the Lord,’ yet 
I believe he will be more merciful to you, since 
you have confessed to me the truth.” 

“I know he will, I know he will,” and the 
remorseful man closed his eyes in death. Ethan 
Lewis went back to Cuthbert, resolve^ to con- 


MARGOLEEN, 


223 


front Blanche Clifton with her baseness, and 
after placing his mother in more trusty hands, 
start in search of his tortured darling. 

“I will find her, I must find her,” again and 
again he uttered aloud, until he at last reached 
home, and on entering the sitting room, found 
his mother reclining upon the sofa and the heir- 
ess reading to her. 

“Oh! Mr. Tewis, we are so glad to see you at 
home again; what on earth kept you away so 
long? Cuthbert is in gloom when its master is 
absent.” 

“Well, I left home in answer to a death-bed 
summons from your nephew, Benton Percy, who 
w r as sentenced to be hung for the murder of an 
old man whom he killed for his money. He 
gave me in full the details of your plans, and 
his actions which have wrecked mine and Marg- 
oleen Melbroke’s lives.” He began in the hear- 
ing of his mother and related the whole ston^. 
The betrayed fiend grew livid under their con- 
temptuous stare, and finally, shrieking with 
rage, left the house and went afoot down to their 
neighboring city, where a letter awaited her, 
saying, “The Pine Grove mansion has been 
wrested away from you, and is now in the pos- 
session of its rightful owners.” 

The report of a pistol shot rang out on the air 


224 


MARGOLEEN. 


and Blanche Clifton’s hand had taken her own 
life.” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

“My son,” said Mrs. Eewis, after the news 
came that Blanche Clifton had shot herself, “is 
it possible that I have been so much deceived in 
her with whom I have been so very intimate? 
Really, I considered her the most lovely woman 
of my acquaintance, and to her only was I veil- 
ing to resign my position as mistress of Cuthbert. ’ ’ 

“Ah! mother, you are a poor judge of human 
nature; I have considered her a snake in the 
grass since the first day I met her, and felt that 
she was no associate for my mother.” 

“And this accounts for your ignoring her 
overtures of friendship?” 

“Certainly; I believed all the while that she 
was devoid of principle.” 

“Did she not really own the Pine Grove es- 
tate?” 

“Not a bit of it, she was no other than a 
usurper; the mistress of an ill-famed lawyer, 
whose chicanery had defrauded some infant 
heirs, and for a time sustained her illegitimate 
claim; the true owners have at last gained pos- 
session of the property, and exposed to public 
scandal Blanche Clifton and her accomplice . n 


MARGOLEEN. 


225 


“Oh! Ethan; could I have but foreseen, how 
differently would I have acted towards her.” 

“Yes, mother, you put away a pure, sweet 
flower to gather a thorn that was to prick our 
hearts. Several years of my life have been 
swallowed up in misery by the treachery of that 
vile woman; and worse than all is the suffering 
of that innocent girl whose life has been tortured 
beyond tolerance.” 

“Go, Ethan; go, and never stop until you 
find and bring her back to us. My eyes are 
now opened to the fact that I have never valued 
her as she deserved; in judging the two women 
I mistook the dross for the gold. O! how I long 
to see her once more, that I may lavish my 
wasted affection upon her. Start to-morrow, 
S3n, and search diligently until you find her.” 

“As soon as you are better, and I can procure 
a trusty companion for you, I shall certainly 
start.” 

Yet instead of his mother getting better, she 
rapidly grew worse, and ten days later the doctor 
said she could not possibly live through the 
night. 

“Ethan,” she whispered to her son, as he sat 
by her dying bed, and held her wasted hand in 
his, “I’m going now, God is calling me from 
earth, and I want to tell you, my boy, how very 


226 


MARGOLEEN. 


penitent I am for my many misgivings; I have 
given too much of my time and thought to 
fashion, yea, 'gaudy things of earth, and left 
undone the things that I now realize would make 
me far happier in the end. Could I live my life 
over again how very different would I act; yet, 
alas! the past is gone and is now buried in eter- 
nity, and I can only ask God to forgive my 
folly.” 

“Yes, mother, ask in sincerity and I believe 
he will forgive you. ’ ’ 

“Son, will you pray with me?” 

Instantly he dropped upon his knees, and 
raising his voice in earnest petition, implored 
God to have mercy on his dying mother, and to 
also strengthen his resolution to meet her in 
Heaven. When he arose his mother smiled and 
said, “My son, I am willing to go, and I feel 
that some day we will be united with your father 
who has long gone before; I had hoped to live 
to see Margoleen, but ’tis God’s will to take me 
now, and I am resigned to go. When you find 
her ask her to forgive me the wrong I uncon- 
sciously did her, and tell her to meet me \xx 
Heaven. Kiss me, my child.” 

He imprinted a fond kiss upon her cheek, and 
her soul was wafted away. 

After his mother was sacredly placed in the 


MARGOLEEN. 


227 


vault beside his father, Ethan employed a tenant 
and left Cuthbert to search for his missing idol. 
He learned that she had taken a Southern 
route, but no definite clue to her existence could 
be given him. For several years he traveled, 
going in different directions, advertising, em- 
ploying detectives, etc., yet all to no avail, until 
at last, believing her to be dead, he went back 
home a crushed and disappointed man. 

About this time the condition of the country 
became uncertain, and the spirit of war sweeping 
like wild-fire became so prevalent as to electrify 
our hero. His sympathy being naturally with 
the people of his native soil, he became absorbed 
in the interest of his country, linked his fortune 
with the Confederate cause, gallantly marched 
to the front in battle, and was at the first blood- 
sheding of the civil war, which we remember to 
have taken place on the streets of Baltimore, 
April 19th, year 1861. But few men were killed 
upon this occasion, however, and Ethan Lewis 
was left unscathed. He bravely contested for the 
cause of his forefathers, until the bloody battle 
of Shiloh, where a merciful hand dragged him 
from among the dead and wounded, and care- 
fully carrying him to a closed carriage in ambush, 
with the assistance of his driver, who was appa- 
rently a true type of old-fashioned slavery, placed 


228 


MARGOLEEN. 


him among the soft cushions, supported his head 
against his sympathetic breast, and bade his 
attendant carry them, by slow and easy stages, 
from the gory scene of the battle field. 

During their exit Ethan lay unconscious of 
his injuries. The next morning when he opened 
his eyes he saw a man standing over him, whose 
brow was of classic mould, and whose iron-grey 
locks bespoke the turning point of life. 

“How do you feel this morning?” spoke his 
benefactor, whose pleasant smile in some peculiar 
way brought fond recollections to his mind, and 
his heart went out to him at once. 

“I feel that I have had a terrible shock; tell 
me, am I seriously hurt?” 

“No, I think not; being somewhat familiar 
with the science of surgery, I have probed your 
wound, taken out the bullet, and with proper 
care I think you will soon be able to enter service 
again. ’ * 

“Where am I, and to whom am I indebted for 
this kindness?” viewing the nicely bandaged 
wound. 

“You are not far from Shiloh, and be assured 
you are in the hands of one whose care and 
attention is freely given.” 

“Will you please tell me your name?” per- 
sisted Ethan. “Your face carries me back to 


Margoleen. 


22D 


some one I have known ; somewhere I have seen 
one that resembles it. ’ ’ 

“I am known as William Malery; and yours 
sir, by what name shall I address you?” 

“Ethan Lewis is my name.” 

“Well, Mr. Lewis, I’m glad to make your 
acquaintance, and trust we may become fast 
friends.” 

“Amen!” was the reply. 

Every attention that William Malery and his 
servants could render was duly given the 
wounded soldier, yet he seemed to get worse 
instead of better, and finally, becoming some- 
what alarmed about his condition, William Mal- 
ery one day said to him, “Have you no lady 
relative whom you think would better understand 
how to nurse you ?’ ’ 

“I have no relative, but have a lady friend 
that I believe would do what she could for me.” 

“A sweetheart,” suggested his friend, smiling. 

“No, she is no sweetheart, but a pure, good, 
Christian woman, who has long been a special 
friend of mine.” 

“Shall I write for her to come; do you think 
her too prudish to come to the house of a wid- 
ower?” 

“She is sensible enough to go where her 
Christian duty demands. There is no mock 


230 


MARGOLEEN. 


modesty about her, I’ll assure you, yet she is a 
lady of the truest type.” 

“Then I shall ask her to come; my house- 
keeper will see that she is comfortably provided 
for. ’ ’ 

Three days later Belle Seaton received a letter 
requesting her to come for a few days and assist 
in nursing her friend, Ethan Eewis, whose re- 
covery was now considered doubtful. Imme- 
diately she packed her valise and was soon by 
his bedside, doing all in her power for his com- 
fort; nor was her labor in vain, for it was not 
many days after her arrival until he took a 
change for the better, and was soon able to sit 
up. She remained with him five weeks, and 
when she decided to go home he was out of 
danger, and she and William Malery deeply in 
love with each other. This was confided to 
Ethan, who had also learned to esteem his new 
friend with marked deference; and when con- 
sulted in regard to them uniting their lives, he 
expressed himeelf as believing them well suited 
to each other. He never expected to marry 
himself, and feeling that he would rather Belle 
would be mistress of his old home than anyone 
else, sold Cuthbert to William Malery, with the 
privilege of making his home with them, pro- 
vided he lived till the end of the war. The 


MARGOLEEN. 


231 


agreement was made and the property assigned 
to Belle’s husband, who was amply able to pay 
the cash for it. A few months later the marriage 
took place, and the happy pair started for Cuth- 
bert, their future home, while Ethan continued 
in the service of his country until the close of 
the war. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

At last the bloody war is over, leaving many 
hearts and homes desolate. Those whose lives 
have been spared go back to their homes to re- 
sume the tranquil pursuits of civil life, among 
whom is the hero of our story. When he 
reached his old home he found that with the ex- 
ception of a few, his slaves had availed them- 
selves of their freedom and taken their departure 
in diverse courses. Tricksy, w r ho had long 
since married that ideal beau, Jim, with her two 
little ebony girls and her old mother, Aunt Sil- 
via, still remained, awaiting the coming of their 
master, also Phil, his faithful valet, refused to 
claim his freedom, preferring to remain with the 
one who had ever been kind and indulgent to 
him. “Well,” my faithful servants,” he an- 
swered their request to still live with him, “you 
can stay here and serve not only me, but also 


232 


MARGOLEEN. 


the good people to whom I have sold this prop- 
erty.” 

“Sold this property, Marse Kthan! Is Cuth- 
bert no longer your home?” and te'ars stood in 
their eyes. 

“I have indeed sold it; yet, the people who 
bought it are my best friends, and I reserved a 
home with them for life should I prefer it. I 
want you all to do your duty, and I’ll assure 
you neither I nor my friends will ever forsake 
you.” 

They agreed to remain as they wished to live 
and die with Marse Ethan. 

As he wearily turned and left them, Phil said 
to his companions, “that man is grieving him- 
self to death ’bout that little girl he loved so 
well. Oh! how I do wish he could find her.” 

Belle and her husband did everything in their 
power to make Ethan happy. His every com- 
fort was considered, and he loved them devot- 
edly, but the abiding paleness and wasting thin- 
ness of his face, the certain languor and weari- 
ness in all his movements, told that he was suf- 
fering, his trouble preyed upon his mind. He 
thought of Margoleen’s pure, innocent face when 
he coldly repulsed her actions. “Fool, that I 
was!” he would sometimes exclaim, “I blame 
myself with every bit of it; why did I suffer her 


MARGOLEEN. 


233 


to leave me as she did?” Again he becomes 
restless, and goes rambling around the world, 
praying to find her whom his soul loveth, and 
as he wanders on, we will go back to the mag- 
nificent home of the authoress, and see what is 
happening there. Again the season of the year 
rolls round when all creation awakes to new 
life; yes, it is a delicious spring morning, hast 
night a refreshing shower of rain feel upon the 
earth; to-day the sun shines on Mount Agnes, as 
our heroine entitles her home, causing the flowers 
to lift their heads, and in mute appeal inquire, 
‘‘Am I not lovely?” Like heavy dew, or spark- 
ling jewels, the rain drops still clung to leaf and 
blossom. A soft west wind stirred foliage and 
grass; the partridge called his bobolink. Aunt 
Katie and Uncle Edwin, like happy children, 
were watching the gold fish play in their crystal 
pool of water, whilst Margoleen sat upon the 
front veranda absorbed in deep meditation — can 
we imagine the thoughts that fill her mind? 
The world has bowed in homage at her feet; has 
her life not at last been crowned with success? 
From her position on the veranda she can look 
down the embankment and see a lovely streamlet 
with its banks lined with flowering ivy and 
laurel, looking like ghostly sentinels keeping 
silent watch over her mountain home, and she 


234 


MARGOLEEN. 


thanked God for it all; yet was she truly happy? 
Reader, there are times when our hearts go out 
after things that have, perhaps, been wisely put 
out of our reach, yet a peculiar influence invests 
us with power to feel that our soul has a re- 
sponse. 

With a face that not only showed intelligence, 
but deep womanly character, she looked towards 
Heaven, thence consulted her watch and called, 
“Aunt Katie, I’m going for a walk, I will not 
be gone long. ” 

“It’s been raining, and I’m afraid you will 
get your feet wet, honey,” said the ever watchful 
old lady. 

“No, no, I will wear my rubbers and pick my 
way. ’ ’ 

“Well, mind you don’t walk in the high grass . 5 ’ 

I’ll be careful to mind you, Aunt Katie,” and 
Margoleen made her way down to the spring 
that flowed near the white graveled road that 
led down the hill, and upon which she had 
expended a goodly amount of money. She had 
stooped and was dipping with her hand from the 
crystal surface, when a voice from behind her 
said, “I^ady, will you be kind enough to lend 
me your cup that I may get a drink of water?” 

She turned to recognize the man whose hair 
was now streaked w r ith grey, and whose former 


MARGOLEEN. 


235 


erect carriage somewhat stooped, to be Ethan 
Lewis, the object of her life long love. 

“My guardian,” she gasped, and fainted on 
the spot. 

“Margoleen, precious darling, don’t die, live 
for the sake of him who has searched the world 
over for 5~ou.” 

A handful of water soon revived her sufficiently 
to know that the only man whom she had ever 
loved was by her side imploring forgiveness and 
upbraiding himself for having been the cause of 
all her trouble. 

“Why did you not believe me when I told 
you I was innocent of the wrong of which you 
suspected me?” she asked. 

“I did Margoleen; away down in my heart I 
knew you must be pure, yet my great love for 
you made me jealous; I was mad Margoleen, 
and scarcely responsible. My life since then has 
been one round of sorrow. Has not my error 
been expiated by what I have suffered? Margo- 
leen I now believe that you once loved me, do 
you love me yet; say Margoleen, will you not 
forgive me and love me again?” 

“Hush! I’m a married woman, and you should 
not insult me thus. ’ ’ 

“Nay, my love, you are no longer a married 
woman. ’ ’ Taking the written confession of Ben- 


236 


MARGOLEEN. 


ton Percy from his pocket, that was witnesses 
and signed by the turn-key and a minister, who 
were present when her husband died, he handed 
it to her to read. She lowered her head and 
prayed silently until Ethan continued, “Margo- 
leen, say that I am forgiven.’’ 

“I truly forgive you,” she replied. 

‘‘May I hope that the love that I would have 
given worlds to possess, and which, unconscious 
of its existence, I apparently ignored, still burns 
in your bosom for me?” 

For a few moments she was silent. 

‘‘Answer me, Margoleen; I’m an impatient 
man, and it is cruel to keep me in suspense.” 

‘ ‘ You already know that I love you, Mr. Lewis, 
and shall continue to love you until breath leaves 
my body.” 

He bared his head, and in humble thanks 
lifted his voice in prayer. ‘‘To know that you 
forgive me, and still love me, Margoleen, is the 
most precious boon I have ever received, yet I 
am not content until you name an early day for 
our marriage. The many dangers and ugly falls 
over which our barges have passed, and the 
frosted locks of my head, warn us that we have 
no time to waste on formality. How long shall 
it be ere I claim my little ward as my own dear 
wife; I repeat, how long shall it be?” 


MARGOLEEN. 


237 


“The day your heart demands it,” she an- 
swered. 

“Come, Margie,” said he, taking her by the 
the hand, “let us go this hour and be married, 
and when I once get you under my thumb I shall 
pin you to my side as a necessary appendage.” 

“Have you still so little confidence in me as 
to fear to let me leave your sight?” 

“Forgive me, darling, with my life I would 
trust you, but do not compel me to wait long to 
claim by peerless bride. ’ ’ 

So it was decided that in one week’s time they 
were to be married at the village church where 
she had worshipped since Aunt Katie had intro- 
duced her to its members. 

“And how did you at last chance to find me 
here?” asked Margoleen on the way to the 
house as Ethan was explaining how earnestly he 
had searched for her. 

“Well, after going North, South, East and 
West, I was on my way home, broken-hearted, 
sorrowing beyond measure, when passing 
through this village whose beautiful scenery, in- 
cluding this grand mountain, which is invested 
with a peculiarly hallowed and mystic influence, 
it arrested my attention and seemed to invite me 
to stop and rest my weary soul by exploring its 
loveliness. Tittle did I dream of finding you 


238 


MARGOLEEN. 


here, my angel, yet, I well know that God in 
his infinite mercy directed my steps hither; and 
now tell me, Margoleen, how came you here on 
this beautiful mountain?” 

‘‘Come in,” she said, evading his direct ques- 
tion, as she pushed open the door and continued, 
“this is my home. Come in, Mr. L,ewis, you 
are most welcome; I have friends here who will 
explain to you what I feel a delicacy in men- 
tioning. vSit here,” she said, proffering him a 
rocker, ‘‘and I will send to you the dear old 
people who befriended me in my greatest sor- 
row; yea, through their influence have I been 
actuated to pursue the course that gave me this 
home, and better than all, they have shown me 
the path wherein to walk that I may reach that 
celestial home where joy is eternal.” 

Turning to the door, she disappeared, leaving 
him for a short period alone. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Softly the zephyrs lifted the rich, creamy lace 
curtains, sending a fragrance from the flowers, 
and gently fanning the cheek of him who in 
blissful expectancy, looked around the elegantly 
furnished room wondering what all this grandeur 
could mean, when again the door was opened, 


MARGOLEEN. 


239 


this time to admit the mistress of this Garden of 
Eden, figuratively speaking. Behind her 
walked Aunt Katie, whose soft slippered tread, 
snowy locks, that were smoothly brushed back 
beneath her white cap, black silk gown, and the 
angelic expression of her face, entreated rever- 
ential tenderness; also, Uncle Edwin, whose 
noble deeds were certainty written in the book 
of heaven, brought up the rear. 

After the formula of introduction, Margoleen 
saw that they v/ere comfortably seated, and w T ith 
a look of fondness, said to them, “Aunt Katie, 
I want you and Uncle Edwin to give my friend, 
Mr. Lewis, a true history of my acquaintance 
with you.” 

Again she absented herself, while the couple 
in question gave the full details of the past eight 
years of her life. When they explained how 
she had lain out in the cold, and in a starved 
condition, crawled to the milking gap and 
begged for one drink of milk from the bucket, 
and how, when her child died, she had prayed 
to die also. Together the kind old people 
mingled their tears with his, as he groaned 
aloud: “My darling! oh! my poor, tortured dar- 
ling.” 

They concluded by telling him that she was 
now a famous authoress, whose genius had not 


240 


MARGOLEEN. 


only enriched her purse, but also crowned her 
with honor. Many had been the times he had 
read, and admired her writings, all unconscious 
that they had sprung from the soul of her whom 
he loved. 

He, in turn, explained to her friends how ar- 
dently he had loved her, how he had for years 
been searching for her, and how very mysteri- 
ously he chanced to find her. Also gave them 
full particulars concerning the death of her hus- 
band, then summoning her again in their midst, 
together the four knelt and offered thanks for 
the happiness brought forth this day. 

They next talked about the wedding, which 
they arranged to take place the following Sun- 
day morning in the church heretofore described. 
“Then,” said Ethan, “shall your literary bond- 
age be snapped asunder. I shall have no Bas 
Blue for my wife; do you hear, Margoleen? 
Your time which should have always been given 
to me, shall no longer be wasted upon the pub- 
lic. We will go back to Cuthbert, and the re- 
maining days of our lives, enjoy the sweet pleas- 
ure of each others’ society.” 

“In my joy I had forgotten that there still re- 
mains a great barrier to our happiness,” said she. 

“What can you mean, Margoleen? Nothing 
save death shall part us now. ’ ' 


MARGOLEEN. 


241 


“Mr. Lewis, would you marry a woman of 
obscure birth ? Remember, I can tell you but 
little of my parents.” 

“Hush! Margoleen, put dowm your scare- 
crow; next Sunday morning at eight o’clock 
sharp, you are to become Mrs. Lewis, and we 
shall at once take up our abode at Cuthbert.” 

“I have two requests to make of you,” she 
interrupted. 

“What racks your busy little brain now, 
Margie?” 

“First, I want you to agree that we make our 
home here. Mount Agnes is the dearest spot 
to me on earth; don’t you think you could be 
content to live here?” 

“Most assuredly, I would be happy anywhere 
with you, Margoleen, and in this respect your 
wish shall be granted, in fact I don’t know but 
what it would be best; as you love your moun- 
tain home so much I would not separate you 
from it; besides, I have sold Cuthbert, but did 
not tell you, as I thought perhaps you would 
wish to live there, and I know I can redeem it 
if I so desire.” 

“To whom did you sell it?” 

“Well, I have not yet had time to tell you 
that our old friend, Miss Belle Seaton, has re- 
cently married a good friend of mine, and that 


242 


MARGOLEEN. 


they have purchased Cuthbert, where they now 
reside. However, I reserved a home with them. 
They have certainly been true friends to me, and 
believing I would never marry, I concluded I 
would rather Belle would be mistress of my old 
home than anyone else, consequently sold it to 
her husband, so we are agreed on this point. If 
it is your desire, Mount Agnes shall be our future 
home. What is your next request?” 

“That Uncle Edwin and Aunt Katie occupy 
the same position in our home that they now do. ’ ’ 

“I certainly would not have it otherwise,” he 
replied, “for it is to them I’m indebted for my 
happiness to-day, so now I shall go down to the 
village below, where I shall take up my abode 
until Sunday morning, when I shall claim you 
as my wife. Meantime I must see }^ou every 
day.” 

At last the day arrives for the realization of 
the dream of their souls. Sunday morning 
dawned a beautiful day; a flush of golden sun- 
light bathed the world, yea, sang above two 
hearts that at last were blest, the happy binding 
of their lives was now to take place. 

Sparkling dew-drops still clung to flower and 
leaf, the woodland songsters warbled their merry 
greeting, the little church with spire lifting its 
head loftily towards Heaven, and which the 


MARGOLEEN. 


213 


villagers had beautifully decorated with flowers, 
was now crowded to its utmost capacity, and 
while the bell still chimed the glad tidings, 
Ethan Eewis proudly led Margoleen Melbroke 
to the hymeneal altar. Thence they repaired to 
Cuthbert on a visit to his friends, who had been 
duly informed by Ethan that he was to be mar- 
ried on this appointed day, and would first come 
to them for congratulations before settling down 
in their permanent home. 

He had never spoken of his ward to William 
Malery, consequently he knew nothing of his 
history in connection with her, neither did he 
mention in his letter the real name of the lady 
to whom he was to be married, as he preferred 
to take his friend, Belle, by surprise, therefore 
she knew not that the lady whom she was ex- 
pecting as his bride, was the poor little waif of 
Lowland Inn, to whom she had given the gold 
necklace long years ago under that very roof; 
neither did she at first recognize her when she 
and Mr. Malery met them at the gate, yet the 
face of her companion grew as pale as death as 
Ethan led his wife up to them and said, “Belle, 
do you not remember my little ward, Margoleen 
Melbroke ?” 

“My child,” shrieked William Malery, and 
before Ethan could comprehend his meaning, he 


244 


MARGOLEEN. 


had gathered Margoleen in his arms, and press- 
ing her to his bosom said to the bewildered 
group, “I know by instinct and by the favor of 
her mother that this is my long lost Margoleen,” 
and apparently too much overcome to say more 
he would have sunk to the ground, but that 
Ethan supported him, and by the assistance of 
the ladies managed to get him into the house, 
where, after a few moments, he was sufficiently 
revived to tell his story as follows: 

“My name is not Malery, but William Mel- 
broke. I was an English nobleman, whose home 
was a proud castle with tower and battlements. 
Instead of marrying a proud heiress, as agreed 
by our ancestry, I married a poor girl who was 
possessed of a pure heart and respectable parent- 
age. She was both beautiful and innocent, and 
loved me with marked devotion. With our 
darling baby girl, we lived happily together, 
until by enemies I was accused of conspiracy, 
arraigned before the Oueen’s Court, and without 
a fair trial exiled to the West India Islands. 
The vessel upon which I sailed was wrecked, yet 
in some miraculous way the hand of God saved 
me from a watery grave. I dared not go back 
to my country, yet tried by every devisable 
means, to obtain my wife and baby, though my 
efforts were of no avail. At last, I will not 


MARGOLEEN. 


245 


detail by what means, I learned that my wife, 
believing me to be dead, engaged passage to 
this country, and while on board a steamer, 
sickened and died, leaving our child to the mercy 
of its passengers.” 

‘‘What was her name?” asked Margoleen, 
who now stood trembling with agitation. 

‘‘Her maiden name was Agnes Valroy.” 

‘‘I know you are my father,” she exclaimed, 
as she threw her arms about his neck. ‘‘My 
mother’s name was Agnes Melbroke, and I, your 
child, was christened Margoleen. I remember 
well the hour in which she died; she always told 
me my father was lost in a shipwreck.” 

After giving him a history of her mother’s 
burial, Dinah Hifcks, etc., she next drew forth 
her mother’s picture and held it to his view. 

‘‘Sweet face,” said he, ‘‘how well do I remem- 
ber that expression; and you, m}^ dear child,” 
addressing Margoleen, ‘‘resemble your mother 
in form and feature. I have looked the wide 
world over for my lost child, and now that I 
find her, how thankful I am for the Divine 
Providence. Come Belle, my present sweet 
wife, let me introduce to you our child whom 
God has so mercifully restored to us, and Ethan, 
once my friend, now my child also, as a united 
band let us kneel and thank our Allwise 


margoleen. 


24G 


Creator for the great blessing he gives us this 
day.” 

Several weeks were happily spent at Cuth- 
bert. The newly found relationship rendered 
them doubly dear to each other, and many were 
their old friends who came in to congratulate 
them, and among them was Waller Montgomery 
and his lovely wife, whom he seemed to love 
deeply. A few more lines and w T e shall have 
done. 

Several years have passed since the marriage 
of the master of Cuthbert and the mistress of 
Mount Agues. To-day they are still happy in 
their mountain home, and two handsome boys 
bless their union. Over the well-kept graves of 
Aunt Katie and Uncle Edwin Frazier a lovely 
marble monument gleams in the summer sun- 
light. 

Phil, the trusty old servant, still lives with 
his master, while Tricksy with her dusky fam- 
ily — including Aunt Silvia, who bids fair to live 
a good many years longer — live in a neat cabin 
on Mount Agnes, not far from the house of her 
mistress, who deeded to her this little home. 

William Melbroke and his beloved wife often 
visit their children, who hold themselves greatly 
blest — blest beyond what language can express, 
because she is as fully her husband’s life as he 


MARGOLEEN. 


247 


is her’s. She knows no weariness of his society, 
he knows none of her’s. No more does she ex- 
plore the fields of literature, no more weary 
hours of writing for the public, her soul is too 
full of happiness for her composition to bear the 
impress of genius or inspiration. She and he 
are precisely suited in character: harmony is the 
result. Trusting their lives may continue in 
bliss, we draw the curtain, and repeat — 

u O, lay thy hand in mine, dear ! 

We’re growing old; 

But time hath brought no sign, dear. 

That hearts grow cold. 

’Tis long, long since our new love, 

Made life divine; 

But age enricheth true love, 

Like noble wine. 

O, lean thy life on mine, dear! 

’Twill shelter thee; 

Thou wert a winsom vine, dear, 

On my young tree. 

And so, till boughs are leafless, 

And song birds flown, 

We’ll twine, then lay us, griefless, 

Together down. 

“O, weary heart, if you have missed 
The goal thou sought’st to gain, 

And dreamed of peace and rest and love, 

And waked to bitter pain; 


248 MARGOLEEN. 


Take courage, and look up, O, heart! 

For sunshine follows leaden rain; 
The day will break on the blackest night, 
And sweet flowers bloom again.” 


FINIS. 










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